


Tomorrow's Bounty

by LingeringLilies



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Adventure, F/F, Fantasy, Femslash, Happy Ending, On Haitus, fairy tale, femslash fairy tale, no dead girls here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LingeringLilies/pseuds/LingeringLilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ON INDEFINITE HAITUS</p><p>After waking in a strange forest to find herself injured and wiped of all working memory, Clarke is rescued by Lexa. Together they journey throughout a strange land to find an antidote, to reverse a curse, and to right a wrong. </p><p>AU, fantasy, no dead girls allowed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Damnumflos

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy and excited to be sharing this story with all of you right now. I truly believe in the healing power of storytelling, especially fantasy stories, and I can't think of a community more deserving of healing right now. I understand some people might need to detach from fandom to lick the wounds that are so fresh and real and smarting. But I hope some of you will give me a chance to offer up this gift of hope. That's all I want my stories to be: hopeful.

Bounty, _n._ (boun′tē): 1. Liberality in giving; something given liberally. 2. A reward or payment for acts such as capturing infidels, killing predators, growing certain crops, or enlisting for military service.

* * *

Before I start, let me tell you: this story has a happy ending.

There, I’ve spoiled it for you. You don’t have to read on as I recount everything I’ve been through with her. You could read any of the hundreds of books she keeps in her library instead, books I’d never heard of until she cracked their spines and read their strange and wonderful words out loud as I lay with my head in her lap, slipping toward sleep, anchored only in wakefulness by her voice and her hand in my hair. She’s read me so many stories now, stories of adventure and courage and hope. I often return to them later, reading favorite passages in the window seat overlooking the garden, feeling the stories anew as I wait for her to return from the market.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. You can’t appreciate the way the sun shines in that window or how the garden changes over seasons or how the books we read grew worn to tatters without knowing how we got there. You can’t know the peacefulness of the steam curling up from her teacup as I stare at it from my place beside her, nestled into the crook of her neck as she tells me about the wildflowers she saw on her way back from the village. In order to appreciate all that, you need to know our beginning.

So here it is.

Every muscle and bone in my body ached, screaming for help. My head throbbed, and when I tried to open my eyes, the light was blinding. My face felt fuzzy and hot as though I’d fainted. My brow was stinging, and as I lifted a heavy hand to it, I felt wetness in my hairline as the sting sharpened. I was bleeding, and from the feel of it, my wound was a result of falling. I was curled on something hard and musty and had no idea how I’d gotten there.Taking a breath with exhausted lungs, I tried to open my eyes again.

I found myself soothed by a gauzy canopy above me. As my vision adjusted, I saw I was lying beneath a flowering cherry tree which was letting down tiny petals. Through the pillowy branches above me, the sun streamed down, making me prickle with sweat. I stared up at it, blinking for a minute as the fuzziness faded from my head and my eyes adjusted.

Confused as to how I’d gotten here, I tried to sit up. As I attempted to do so, I found my legs were tangled in a great mess of fabric secured to my waist and shoulders. Propping myself up on one elbow, trying not to wince, I looked down to see I was clad head-to-toe in a dark brown cape and a dress as dull as potatoes. It wasn't anything I was accustomed to wearing; it was heavy and muddied and unflattering. On my feet were a pair of sturdy work boots, just as heavy as the rest of my outfit. At least those were practical. My skin was riddled with cuts and scrapes, and I could feel the swells of bruises forming beneath the surface of my arms and legs.

It was terrifying, really, to find myself in an unfamiliar place with strange clothes on covered in bruises and scrapes.

I sat up, looking around to find myself in a clearing. The sky above me was a striking blue where it peeked through the branches of the cherry tree. The clearing was surrounded by sycamore trees, light streaming through their branches to the piles of crunchy, brown leaves beneath them. Everything was perfectly still and motionless. I would have thought I was looking at a painting had I not felt the sun on my skin or felt the softness of the petals sticking to my hands in the grass around me.

I grunted as I sat up and gathered my skirts, examining my legs for bruises or deep cuts.

From the left side of the clearing I heard a commotion and saw her stride into the clearing, panting as though she had run a great distance. Her boots were sturdy on the ground, crunching leaves and twigs. A hooded cape covered her from her head to her feet and a sword was strapped across her back.

Before I could think too hard about it, I called out to her. "Who's there!"

She stopped abruptly, hand reaching for something attached to her belt. I felt my heart start to pound at the threat. Perhaps I should have waited and observed. She could have been responsible for the sorry state I was in.

When she spotted me, she froze like a deer.

“Who are you?"

Squinting, she kept her hand on her knife as she took a few cautious steps toward me. The hood of her cape was wide and covered most of her hair. If I hadn’t been so disoriented and scared, I would have noticed right away how beautiful she was.

I choked on my dry throat. ”My name is Clarke."

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice was accusatory, as though I was trespassing.

"I-"

My mind took a great tumble as I realized I didn't remember anything before waking up in the clearing: where I lived, what work I did, who my friends were. Looking into my mind was like looking down into a dark chasm; there was absolutely nothing there. It was completely void of any information at all.

I froze, disturbed.

Who was I? How had I gotten here? Why was I injured and wearing such a strange outfit? Who was this person standing before me?

Starting to panic, I put one hand to my bloodied face and the other to my stomach. Despite the heat, my face grew cold, and my stomach churned with nerves. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. My panic mounted until I was so dizzy, I thought I would faint. I was spinning through space, my surroundings as blank and useless as my memory.

She crossed the clearing, cape trailing behind her, her strides strong and determined. She stopped in front of me, hand still on her knife, looking down at me with an odd combination of detachment and concern.

“What are you doing here?”

I stared up at her, her unsmiling mouth, her stern eyes. I opened my mouth to speak when something pulled in my leg and I winced.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice was cool and low, as though challenging me to admit I wasn’t okay. I stared at her for moment before I fell back, unable to support my own body. I lay staring up at the light streaming through the cherry blossoms as they blurred into a gauzy, suffocating canopy above me as I gasped for air, feeling my lungs ache and burn as I panted and heaved.

And then she appeared hovering over me, looking concerned. Her eyes widened, hand creeping back toward her knife.

I shut my eyes, hoping she wouldn't kill me.

But instead of taking out her knife, she reached out for my shoulders and gripped, saying, “It’s okay.”

Something in her voice was so steady and soothing, I was able to slow my breathing. Once I felt my body start to unwind, I looked up at her.

“It’s okay. I won’t kill you."

I let out a panicked snort. "That's reassuring."

"Some might say foolish."

Finally, I felt everything come to a standstill. I was no longer hurling through space.

"You are from Swynhollow, yes?" she asked.

I sat up again, brow furrowed. Swynhollow… The word sounded familiar. But I couldn't picture the place in my mind.

"I don't know," I mumbled.

"You don't know?"

I shook my head. I didn’t know anything.

I closed my eyes and felt the way my feet rested in my shoes. My feet felt normal. They were my feet, and I knew them well. From there, I let my mind wander up my legs to my knees, feeling the way they held some of the weight of my skirt. I knew that if I decided to stand, they would hold me. I let my mind follow up to my hips and my stomach, which was still churning with anxiety, but there was something familiar to it. My body was familiar to me. I knew how to move it and how it would respond to things.

Not entirely sure why, I lifted my arm and saw a small scar on my finger. It was of no particular consequence, but it was the most reassuring thing in sight. Even though I didn't know where I was from, I knew that scar. That scar was my beacon of hope.

That, and the fact that she hadn't killed me yet.

"You have no memory?"

I shook my head as a certain hopeless resignation flowed through me. I was at the mercy of this girl, my injuries, and the elements. I was as good as dead out here alone in the wilderness with no memory.

She was still, save for a slight dip in her chest that indicated she had let out a discouraged breath. “Damnumflos,” she murmured.

"What?"

"A poison that destroys memory."

I frowned deeper. It didn't sound possible.

"But I remember my name," I argued.

"Some people believe our names come with us from beyond."

She had such a strange way of speaking, such crisp yet gentle consonants, and such formal syntax, it made me feel more lost. I set my hands down and the earth solid beneath me, my torso muscles holding me up.

I supposed I ought to introduce myself and move past the embarrassing panic attack I’d just had. Perhaps if I pretended like everything was okay I would start to feel normal.

"I'm Clarke.”

"So you said," she said, still unsmiling.

I looked up at her, waiting her to introduce herself.

"And you are…?"

She pursed her lips. “You can call me Lexa.”

There was silence and I didn’t know what to say. I decided to start with the obvious thing. “Where are we?”

She tilted her head. "We are in Summeridge.”

I blinked, feeling foolish for asking, since locations meant nothing to me.

I was exhausted from my panic and the uncertainty of everything around me. I moved my legs, which were still heavy as rocks beneath the weighted drapery of my ugly skirt. I grunted and reached down to untangle my shoe from the hem of my dress.

“Your head is bleeding.”

“Yeah…” I said, reaching up to touch the cut. I felt the sting sharpen again and regretted it, as it only exacerbated the pounding behind my eyes.

Lexa frowned, looking around the clearing, unmoved. “I have heard of this happening in these parts. Hijackers use damnumflos to render their victims unconscious. Then they take their horses and valuables and leave them.”

For some reason that didn’t surprise me. With no memory, her explanation was as good as any. 

She considered me for a moment, then reached for her knife, unsheathing it as she crouched down. I shrank back, anticipating the pierce of the blade. Instead, she flipped up the bottom of my skirt, ripping off a strip with her knife. Eying it to make sure it wasn’t too dirty, she held it toward me. When I made no motion to take it, she stepped forward and pressed the cloth to the wound.

I winced. It hurt like hell, but once the initial sting faded, I took the scrap from her and wiped up the blood. I held the cloth in place for a moment as she ripped out a longer piece of skirt and held it toward me. I wrapped it around my head to hold the bandage in place. It made my hair cling to the back of my neck in a prickly kind of way.

I muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re a healer?” she said, giving me a nod of consideration.

I let out a shaky, discouraged breath. "I don't know.”

She considered me for a long moment that seemed to only increase the throbbing in my head. My aching body couldn’t bear the scrutiny.

Then she stood, towering over me, as though she’d made a decision.

“Shall we go?”

“Go where?” I frowned.

“We should find food and shelter for the night.”

I frowned. I was in pain and felt as though I’d been traveling for days with no food or water or sleep. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do.

“I should wait here,” I said.

“For what?” she asked, looking bewildered.

I realized I didn’t know. Some part of me wanted to believe someone was out looking for me, someone who would rescue me from whatever misfortune had befallen me. But I didn’t know anything except the clearing and the strange girl hovering over me. I stayed rooted where I was, willing my legs to stop aching.

"I just think I should stay here."

“Very well,” she said with a finalizing bob of her head. With that, she made her way across the clearing, cape swirling as her boots crunched.

As I watched her go, I felt uneasy. Without her there, I would be truly alone. It only took a moment for me to realize I’d made a mistake.

Looking back, to think that I might have let her walk away so easily terrifies me. I had only a small door through which to slip into her life. The odds seem impossible in hindsight. How did it come to be that she entered the clearing where I had awoken at that exact time? What compelled me to follow her despite her callous behavior and the pain throbbing through my body?

It’s a miracle any of us ever fall in love at all.

“Wait!”

She turned around, eyebrows raised in cool expectation.

“I’ll come,” I muttered.

Her lips pulled in the direction of a smile, but didn't quite bend toward gladness.

I began to walk toward her.

“You’re forgetting something.”

I knew I had forgotten everything about my life, but as I turned toward where I had just been lying, I realized she meant an object.

Where I’d just been sitting, I saw a brown satchel emblazoned with gold lettering.

I stooped to pick up the satchel and found it was engraved with my name. Inside was a curious array of things. A feather quill, a pot of ink, a hunting knife, three pieces of gold, a book, and a flint.

The quill was sharp and hadn’t been dipped in the ink yet. How odd, I thought to myself. Wherever I’d been going, why had I thought to bring a quill along? The flint and the knife and the gold I could understand, but the book?

I pulled it out. It was a beautiful leather book whose pages were yellowed and dusty. It looked almost like a sacred text. But when I opened it, there were only four words written inside. Scrawled on the first page in the most elaborate cursive was the phrase _Once Upon a Time..._

Sighing in frustration that I had no food or means of survival besides the knife and a flint, I slid the satchel over my shoulder and set off into the woods behind her, hoping to find somewhere to rest and recover my memory.

Her gait was long and sturdy as she plodded through the woods with squared shoulders and her head held high. She had a confidence to her that intimidated me.

"Do you know this area?"

"No," she said. It sounded final, as though closing the door on any conversation I might try to initiate.

It was quiet, only the crunching of the leaves beneath our boots and the distant call of birds. The heat that had scorched me in the clearing had disappeared, and I found myself grateful for the ugly cloak I was wearing.

Finally, after at least ten minutes of stoic silence, during which she barely looked at me, she opened her mouth. “Do you remember anything new?”

I shook my head. The only thing I knew was my name.

”That is unfortunate." She looked sad in a way that perplexed me. "I have heard that damnumflos sometimes wears off within a few hours. If not… the effects may be permanent."

Panic seized me. "There's no antidote? No cure?"

“There is. But I’m not a healer. I don’t know where to find it.” She took a few strides. “We will look.”

I tried to keep up with her long strides. Not wanting to settle back into the heavy silence she seemed to prefer, I asked, "What are you?"

She threw me a sidelong glance, then directed her gaze forward. “I’m a teacher.”

I almost stumbled over a protruding root.

"Of what?"

"Of scholars, Clarke." The consonants of my name were crisp in her mouth. "My people do not attempt to educate sheep or cattle." Her tone was mocking, and I resented it.

"I've never heard of a teacher wandering through the woods by herself with a sword.”

"You have not heard of anything, thanks to the damnumflos.”  
  
"Why _are_ you out walking in the woods alone?" I asked. "Not that I don't appreciate the companionship."

"That is not your concern," she said cooly.

"Okay. _Sorry_ ," I said, annoyed at her standoffishness.

When I think back on that first exchange we had, I almost want to laugh. She was so stubbornly closed off, and I so determined to crack her. I know how to coax her open now, though her grumpiness is far rarer and less severe.

We had been walking for at least an hour. I was grateful that at least I had sturdy shoes to go with my ugly dress and heavy cape. But there wasn’t much else to be happy about. It felt an awful lot like we were lost in the woods. I hoped she had a clue where we were going.

Suddenly, she lifted her hand to point. I squinted in the direction she was pointing, but didn’t see anything.

"Smoke,” she said. “Someone must have a fire nearby."

I looked up through the trees and saw she was right. There was a tendril of smoke curling into the sky not far away. I gave a nod and trudged through the forest brush.

We found the source of the smoke shortly. Hidden in the deep shade of the trees was a small cottage. Despite its humble size, it was clean and sturdy, and the smoke coming out the chimney was a sign that someone was home that might be able to help us or at least tell us how to get to the nearest town.

“Thank god,” I muttered. “My legs are killing me.”

I approached and was about to knock on the door when she caught my wrist, almost snarling. Her hand went to her knife, unsheathing it. Realizing we might be in danger, I slid my hand into my satchel and wrapped my fingers around the handle of my own knife.

She examined the door frame, noting the strange symbol above the door. It looked like a horizontal crescent moon with a primitive crown sitting in its bowl. I didn’t recognize it, and from the look she gave, I didn’t think she recognized it either.

She glanced around, then decided it was safe to knock. When she did, there was no response. Not even a scuffle sounded inside the small cabin. The woods were so quiet and still, we would have been able to hear the faintest creaking of a floorboard or chair. But nothing moved or sounded.

She knocked again. And again. After she had rapped her knuckles against the wood of the door some ten odd times, calling out for the owner that we meant no harm, nothing had happened.  
Feeling as though I couldn't go another step, I pushed on the handle of the door and found it was unlocked. It swung open to reveal a hearth with a table set next to it.

The cottage was dark, as the only light came from the fire, a small window that let in the fading light from outside, and two candles on the table. In the glow of the candles, I saw two loaves of bread and large block of cheese. Relieved and grateful at the mere thought of sitting by a fire and eating, I stepped into the house, hand still wrapped around my knife. She followed me in, taking down the hood of her cape, and we stood turning circles as we examined the inside of the cottage.

Much like the outside of the cottage, the inside was clean, but humble. It still held hints of the fresh-cut wood scent that had permeated it when it was built, but the smudges around the fireplace and marks where the chairs had worn into the floor as meals scraped by told the story of several years in the forest. The cottage had no real bed, only a cot made of straw and flour sacks in the corner, with two pillows filled with sheep's wool. There were no blankets or sheets.

“I’m so hungry,” I whined, turning back to the table.

“Then eat.“

She took off her sword and hung its strap over the back of a chair. She sat, and without ceremony, lifted her knife and sank it into the cheese, cutting a large slice and putting it on a piece of torn-off bread.

I wondered what made her so confident that she felt entitled to eat a stranger’s food. She was such a strange girl and we were in such a strange situation. At the time, I honestly thought it was the strangest day of my life. Except I couldn't remember the rest of my life, so I didn't know if that day was the strangest. Perhaps every day before had been was as strange as that one. There was no way to be certain. I only know that since then, I’ve had some of the strangest and most miraculous days a girl could imagine.

Even though I was uneasy about how I’d come to be in this cottage with such a strange companion, my stomach was too empty to worry about where the food had come from or if it was okay to eat.

I pulled a chair out and plopped into it, relieved to be off my feet. I used my knife to slice the loaf of bread open and cut a chunk of cheese to place on top. I shoved the food into my mouth.

She didn’t make eye contact as we devoured one of the loaves and most of the cheese. I stole a few glances at her, noticing her braids and the smoothness of her cheek under smudges of dirt. I think that was the first time I noticed she was beautiful. But beauty is so rarely a conscious thought; it is simply a knowing of the eye. We do not need to decide if a flower is beautiful. It is because we perceive it as such. Even though I knew she was pretty then, she’s grown more and more beautiful to me every day since.

Though the sun still had a long journey across the sky outside, I felt like I could sleep for a week. She rose from the table and slipped off her shoes, placing them beside the door before removing the rest of her weapons. She unfastened her cape and draped it over her chair before sliding to her knees, laying her head on the pillow, eyes already closed as placed her sword and knife against the wall beside her for safekeeping. I could see tiredness drawing her down into the floor and felt the heaviness in my own limbs double.

Was I supposed to share the bed with her? Make do with a spot in front of the hearth?

As though reading my mind, she mumbled, “Are you going to sleep too?”

I supposed that was as good an invitation as any. I was so drained, so weary to my bones, I slunk toward the cot, prying off my heavy work boots, and lay down next to her, eager to welcome sleep.

How strange that first nap was, how conscious I was not to press too close to her, not to invade her space. Little did I know how starved for affection she was, how I had been the first person to speak more than five words to her in weeks. How my presence was already softening her armor, and how the coming weeks would thrust us together in the most fantastical and alarming ways.

As I settled into the bed, I tried once more to peer into the blackness of my memory. There had to be something there, some glimmer of where I’d come from. I squeezed my eyes tight, hoping my concentration would render anything of recognition.

Something soft glowed in my mind, a shadow cast by candlelight. I saw movement, but nothing more than the passing of shadows. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, straining my mind's vision to see closer.

But the light extinguished quickly and I was left with nothing but fatigue. Drained, I fell into a deep sleep beside her.

Like I told you earlier, I've read a lot of stories. But this one -- this one is my favorite.


	2. Crimson

So where were we? Oh, I was telling you about the first night I spent with her, in that strange little cottage in an even stranger forest, trying not to get too close. We had just fallen asleep. Everything was peaceful.

We had only been asleep an hour or so when I awoke to the feeling of her trembling. Little tremors shook the bed as she curled into herself. The fire had gone out and the tip of my nose was numb, but my cloak draped over me kept me from shivering.

I looked around the cabin for a blanket to give her, but it was too dark to see anything. I couldn’t tell where she’d hung her cape for the night and didn’t want to get up and feel my way around in the dark in case I bumped into something and aggravated one of the many bruises covering my body. When her trembling grew worse, I draped my cloak over her without saying anything. It was awkward, having to lie so close to someone I’d only just met, but it was better than feeling her shiver when I could do something about it.

Looking back, I wish I could have shielded her from so much more than the cold. I wish I had known just how blissful it is to wrap myself around her, how I could do so every night for the rest of my life and still wish I had more time to hold her. But I didn’t know then. She was just a stranger to me.

After a moment she stopped shivering and murmured, “Thank you.”

I was just closing my eyes to go back to sleep when we heard a howl not too far in the distance. It echoed eerily in the silence of the cottage. I felt Lexa stiffen next to me.

I was about to ask if she knew what kind of animal had made such a sound when I heard crunching in the brush outside, followed by a frantic banging on the door. 

“Let me in!” a little girl cried. “Let me in!”

Lexa sprang from the bed, knife already drawn. She unlocked and opened the door, then froze. The noise outside stopped and a moment passed.

“Who are  _ you _ ?” the little girl asked.

I squinted toward the door where all I could see was a lantern swinging wildly. Lexa sheathed her knife and ushered the girl in, purposefully locking the door behind her and lowering the wooden bar across the frame.

She took a matchstick and lit the candles we had blown out after dinner, giving us more light to see the child by. The wound on my head throbbed as I sat up and took in the sight of the girl. She wore a long, formless dress and a red scarf covering her head, neck, and shoulders. Her skin was darker than mine, and her eyes were piercing light blue. She was stopped dumb in her tracks.

"What are you doing here?" the girl asked.

"We stopped here to rest the night."

"Where's my mother?" 

Lexa and I looked at each other. "Your mother?"

The girl turned to us with suspicious eyes. "What have you done with her?" 

Lexa stepped forward with surprising tenderness for the distressed girl. "We haven't seen her. We arrived here this afternoon, ate, and went to sleep. No one else has been here."

"She was supposed to be here!" the little girl said, growing upset. 

"What does she look like?" Lexa asked apologetically.

"She looks like my mother!" the girl said, starting to cry.

"Don't cry," Lexa said, stepping closer. She reached forward as though to dry the girl’s eyes, then withdrew her hand, unsure. "I'm sure she's only gone to visit a neighbor or collect wood or something.” 

"She wouldn't stay out after dark!” the girl said, growing more distraught by the second. "She always forbid me to do that because of the wolves!"

If I hadn’t already been relieved that we had found shelter for the night, I was then. 

"Where’s your father?" I asked.

The girl sniffled. “I haven’t got one.”

"Do you have other relatives nearby?" Lexa asked.

The girl sniffled. “No.”

"Well… Don’t worry,” Lexa assured her. "I’m sure she’ll be back soon. There was a fire in the fireplace when we arrived. She couldn’t have gone far. We won't leave you alone.”

Even though Lexa's offer was kind and good, the young girl burst into tears, darting to the bed and collapsing beside me, crying her eyes out. I’d never seen a child her age be quite so dramatic. 

I looked up at Lexa, who was studying the girl with a small crease in her brow. Not knowing what else to do for the little girl, I put my hand on her back. I could feel Lexa's gaze heavy on me as I tried to comfort the girl.

From outside another howl sounded, and the three of us tensed as though a sudden wind had swept through the room. 

We held our breath, listening for signs that the wolf was getting closer. After a long, tense minute, the girl sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. 

"We'll keep you safe," I whispered. “I’m Clarke.” 

The girl sniffled again. "I'm Rameesha."

"Hi Rameesha."

The girl turned her head to look at Lexa, glaring as if Lexa had lied to her about her mother. It was an odd reaction to someone who had done nothing but try to comfort her.

“I’m Lexa,” Lexa offered. 

Rameesha snapped her head back toward the wall. She sniffled for a minute, then looked up at me.

“What happened to your head?” 

The makeshift bandage I had fashioned must have looked strange to Rameesha.

“I got a cut. I’ll be okay.”

“Maybe you should put a pretty scarf like mine over the bandage.”

Looking at the fine fabric that covered Rameesha’s head, I nodded with a polite smile. “Maybe.”

It was quiet as the three of us listened for more noises outside. In the silence, I heard Rameesha's stomach growl. 

"Are you hungry?"

She nodded, and behind her Lexa moved toward the table, drawing out a chair and using her knife to slice what was left of the cheese. She laid it on a plate, but Rameesha wouldn’t move from where she had thrown herself against the bed until I coaxed her, offering to sit beside her. As I sat down, I gave Lexa an apologetic look. I had no idea why Rameesha was being so cold to her. Perhaps she’d been frightened by the knife Lexa had been holding when Lexa had opened the door.

It’s funny to think of how often Lexa used to carry weapons. These days I rarely see her use a knife outside our kitchen. Her hands are much more accustomed to the trowels and sheers she uses in the garden. I can’t remember the last time I saw a sword slung across her back. And yet she is stronger and braver than I ever knew her in that forest.

When Rameesha finished eating, she kept her chin down as she slipped off her shoes. She yawned, her sullenness lifting for a moment as she stretched, then padded toward the bed. Without saying anything, she lifted my cloak over her and snuggled into the space where Lexa had been sleeping, keeping her back to us.

I looked up at Lexa, whose eyes were fixed on the girl with pained concern. 

Back then I didn’t know how to coax her thoughts out of her, how the gentle placement of my hand over hers would dislodge the dam between her mind and mouth. But at that moment, I didn’t even bother to try.

“You can have my spot,” I said, nodding toward where I’d been sleeping. I was still exhausted, but she seemed shaken and oddly protective of Rameesha. More protective than I would have expected, given her ambivalence toward me in my banged-up state.

Lexa’s eyes fell to the floor. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’m accustomed to sleeping on the ground.”

It was a sad statement, but one I didn’t dwell on then. I simply nodded and moved back to where I’d been laying, lifting half my cloak off Rameesha and resting my head on the pillow. Behind me I heard Lexa push the chairs back into the table, lift her cape from where she’d hung it, and two soft puffs of breath as she blew out the candles. I heard her lay down somewhere, drawing her cape over her.

To think that I let her sleep on the hard wood floor with only a cape to cover herself breaks my heart. I told her so recently and she laughed her soft little laugh, the one where the corners of her eyes turn up, and told me she forgives me. 

We’ve gotten pretty good at forgiveness since that night. 

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember waking to the soft sounds of Lexa’s shoes on the floor as she prepared food for us. In the night, my body seemed to have flared in all the places I’d been sore the day before, making it hard to move without wincing. 

Lexa placed a cup on the floor beside me. I was thirsty, so I drank it without question. I thought it was water, but it tasted bitter and strange going down. I made a face, but she had her back to me so she didn’t see. Not wanting to move yet, I lay still, looking over to Rameesha to see if she was awake yet. Her small back was still rising and falling peacefully. 

After a few minutes my body seemed to calm from its throbbing soreness. I sat up, sliding my feet into my shoes, then stood and walked to the basin to wash my face and hands.

I would have asked Lexa how she’d slept, but she was hunched over a bowl at the table, looking sullen and unapproachable. I figured she was annoyed I hadn’t gotten up to help with breakfast, so I sat down silently and ate.

I wish I could tell you the porridge Lexa made was delicious, but it was gross. I told her so recently and she frowned at me and said, “What did you expect? We were in a cabin in the woods with no milk and no stove.” Then her lips lifted in a flirtatious smile. I can assure you, the food she makes now is heavenly. She’s learned to prepare food for pleasure rather than survival.

Once Lexa had finished eating, I decided to risk conversation.

“What are we gonna do with her?” I whispered, darting my eyes in Rameesha’s direction.

She looked at me coolly, as though reprimanding me.

“Stay until her mother returns.” 

“What about my antidote?”

Lexa raised her eyebrows in challenge. ”Maybe she knows where to find it.”

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" 

"Helping an innocent child is not an obstacle to my goals, Clarke."

I felt chided for my selfishness. In hindsight, I was being heartless. The little girl was probably as scared as I’d felt about losing my memories. But I couldn’t give up hope of recovering my memory yet. Not even for a little girl.

When I didn’t indicate I was sorry for being so selfish, Lexa stood, collecting my bowl with a snap. She snatched her cape off the hook by the door and grabbed her sword, yanking open the door and storming out without telling me where she was going. I was stunned at her sudden anger.

The door closely loud enough to wake Rameesha, who sat up and yawned in a way that made her look even younger than she was.

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is she coming back?”

I grew anxious at the thought. Had Lexa stormed out to continue toward wherever she was going? Would she come back for me? Or had she left me with this child to fend for ourselves?

My eyes skittered around the room, searching for clues that Lexa would return. On the table I saw her knife in its sheath. I relaxed. Surely she wouldn’t leave one of her weapons in the cottage if she wasn’t planning to return.

“She’ll be back.”

"Is she nice?" 

"She’s… been helping me since yesterday. She's not dangerous."

At the time I wasn't sure I was telling the truth; Lexa was so cold and withdrawn, it was hard to tell what her intentions were. But she'd had ample opportunity to injure, kill, or steal from me, and so far she hadn't tried. I suppose that counted as being nice. Especially in that forest.

Little did I know just how kind and sweet she would reveal herself to be in the coming weeks.

Rameesha looked around the room vacantly, still shaking off sleep.

”Are there any cities nearby?" I asked.

"Not that I know of. 

"Do you know where we could find a map?" 

Rameesha shook her head. 

"Can you tell me anything about the shape of the forest? What's around it? Dangerous parts of it?" 

"It's  _ all _ dangerous," Rameesha said, as though it were obvious. "But the North side is where the wolves live. Don't go there." 

"Which way is North?" I asked anxiously. 

Rameesha laughed, as though I were the silliest girl in the world because I didn't know which way was North.  

"Which way is North?" I asked again.

Rameesha looked stunned, realizing that I didn't know how to tell direction. “It's that way," she said, pointing to the right. "The sun rises over there and sets over there.” 

I nodded, feeling stupid that I hadn’t thought to make note of it the day before. The forest seemed to swallow us up so that it was hard to tell which direction the light was coming from.

Rameesha looked at me curiously, then decided to be gracious. She reached under her headscarf and drew out a compass. “You can have this so you don’t get lost." 

I looked at the compass with uncertainty. It was so beautiful, I couldn't believe Rameesha was giving it to me. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure," Rameesha said. "I know my way around. I won't miss it." 

I took the compass from Rameesha's hand and examined it. It was small and silver, the needle adorned with a tiny ruby.

If I’d examined the compass more closely, I would have noticed something odd about it. But at that moment, with no memories or idea where I was, everything seemed odd.

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s very generous.”

I set the compass on the table and Rameesha let out another yawn.

“What’s for breakfast?”

Realizing I should have offered her food already, I glanced around, spotting a bowl of Lexa’s gross porridge intended for Rameesha. I gestured toward it and Rameesha hopped out of bed, plopping down beside me. She ate it without complaint, wiping her mouth with a sleepy hand when she was done. She gave a little shiver and I was reminded of how cold the cottage was.

"We should chop wood for the fire,” she said matter-of-factly. She stood, moved a crate to the doorway, and took an axe down from above the door.

I stiffened. Why was this small girl handling such a heavy weapon? 

“Careful.” 

Rameesha stepped down and moved the crate back next to the table. She opened the door and looked back at me expectantly. I hesitated, then got up to follow her. I knew nothing about chopping wood, but I wanted to attempt to be useful. Besides, with Lexa gone, my only alternative was sitting idly in the cottage alone.

The woods outside were clouded with thick mist, such that I couldn’t see more than a dozen yards ahead of me. It was eerie and disorienting. I almost suggested we wait for the fog to burn off, but Rameesha seemed so intent. I followed her, wondering where Lexa had stormed off to, hoping she planned to return soon.

Rameesha led me a few dozen yards away to a tree that had been partially hacked down. The wood was chopped unevenly. I had somehow imagined there would be logs that merely needed to be split, but I quickly realized collecting wood would involve carving part of a tree. 

Rameesha gestured for me to stand back as she got her footing to begin chopping. She did so with such confidence, I was taken aback. 

She raised the axe, then brought it down with a sudden shout, a warrior cry. It startled me. Despite her size, she wielded the weapon as forcefully as a grown man. 

“Whoa,” I said.

She looked back at me, as though surprised I’d spoken. “What?”

I hesitated, worried what might happen if her rage was redirected at me. I’d seen the way she’d glared at Lexa the night before. ”You seem kinda angry at that tree." 

She tilted her head and examined the axe, then let it fall to her side and said, “You have a swing." It sounded almost generous, but I couldn't help but hear a hint of contempt. 

I realized I had backed herself into a corner. “That’s okay,” I said, stepping back to indicate I didn't want to argue. 

“Go ahead,” Rameesha said. "Take a swing." 

I wanted to offer a valid objection, but when she held the axe out, I had no choice but to accept it. 

It was even heavier than I imagined. I didn't think I’d be able to take more than two swings at the tree stump before my arms gave out. They were still sore from whatever had happened to me the day before. But I was determined to prove I was more than some beat-up girl with no memories, even if it was to a little girl. I drew the axe over my shoulder and swung, hitting the wood with a muted  _ thwack _ , seeing the tool lodge itself in the wood a few centimeters. It was much less dramatic than I’d imagined. This was going to be harder than I’d anticipated.

It took me a moment to pry the axe from the wood to swing again, and I didn't dare look at Rameesha because I was certain she was looking smug. I swung a few more times, seeing a small piece of wood finally dislodge itself from the stump. 

Even though my arms were burning, I continued hacking at the wood, wanting to prove I was capable. 

After I’d dislodged another piece, Rameesha said, "Okay, I'll take a turn now." 

I was already out of breath and felt a prickle of sweat on my injured brow. I handed over the axe readily and she braced her feet on the ground, checking to make sure I wasn't within swinging range. As she did, she let out a mighty "Ha!" that seemed to propel the axe deeper into the wood, cutting more effectively than I had. 

It was both amusing and frightening how strong she was.

Taking turns to hack and chip at the stump, soon we had a small pile of wood chips and misshapen blocks. Rameesha’s skirt wasn’t as full as mine for collecting the wood, so she offered to go back to the cottage to get a basket, leaving me to pick up the chips, breathing in the deep, misty air of the forest. 

The mist around me seemed to have a muffling effect. I could hear little besides the sound of my own shoes on the earth and the clinking of wood pieces in my skirt. I drew my cloak around me to block out the chill as I stooped to pick up the wood, being careful not to get any splinters in my hands that were red and sore from wielding the axe. 

I thought about what Rameesha had said about the forest. She’d said it was dangerous. Other than the wolves in the north, were there wild animals that could attack? Robbers or bandits? As if being in a strange place with no memory of who I was wasn’t enough to frighten every wit out of me, the certainty of nearby danger was. I was eager to get back into the cottage and lock the door. 

As soon as I had gathered enough wood in my skirt, I turned around to walk back to the cottage. To my alarm, standing only a few feet in front of me was an old woman, weathered and weary, stooped over a knobby cane with a dark cloak pulled around her. Her bedraggled silver and white hair hung limp around her face, and the only part of her that wasn't wrinkled and dusty-looking were her eyes, which were bright gray, gleaming almost silver. I was so surprised to see someone in front of me, I dropped the wood that had been cradled in my skirt as I let out a yelp. 

How had this old woman crept up on me so suddenly and soundlessly? Was I so beat up and tired I wasn't aware of my surroundings? 

I hoped Lexa and Rameesha would hear my shriek and come to my rescue, wielding the axe and any other useful weapons stored in the cottage. But my yelp was swallowed up by the forest.

"Don't be frightened," the old woman said. Her voice was creaky, like a loose stair, and her mouth curled in a smile I didn't trust. There was probably not a thing that could have alarmed me more than to hear her say  _ Don't be frightened. _

I put a hand to my chest, catching my breath.

"I'm here to help," the old woman said. 

As if to prove it, she laid down her cane and stooped to pick up a piece of wood that had fallen from my skirt. She moved so slowly, looking as though each inch she bent caused her great pain. 

"You don't-- you don't have to do that," I gasped. In truth, I wanted the old woman as far away from me as possible. 

"Who wouldn't want to help a nice girl like you?" she asked as she held up a piece of wood, waiting for me to hold out my skirt. 

Still unnerved but not wanting to leave the old woman holding up the wood, I picked up the hem of my skirt. The old woman stooped and put piece after piece of wood in the bowl it created. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," I said. "I didn't hear you walk up behind me." 

"No one ever does, Clarke," she said, as though weary of hearing such apologies. Her mouth curled up in a smile that was fonder than the first.  

Hearing my name in her creaky old voice spooked me. Who was this old woman and how did she know my name? I squinted down at her, wondering if I should recognize her. She stopped collecting wood and looked up at me . 

"I'm sorry -- I've had a weird couple days," I said. "Do we know each other?" 

"That's neither here nor there," she said, putting three more pieces of wood into my skirt. "Will you be staying in the cottage again tonight?" 

I instantly grew suspicious. How did she know I’d stayed in the cottage the night before? 

“Are you following me?”

The old woman continued silently gathering wood for a few seconds and I continued standing there with my skirt out waiting for her to respond. She picked up her cane and stood a bit straighter, though she was still stooped.

I felt my breathing speed up. 

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but I woke up yesterday in a clearing with a cut on my head and these weird clothes on, and I can't remember anything at happened before that." I turned around to look in the direction of the cottage. "All I know is Lexa-" 

I turned back to the old woman and found she had completely disappeared. There wasn't a trace of her presence other than the kindling gathered neatly in my skirt. 

I stood there dumbly for a minute, looking at my skirt and then at the trees around me. There wasn't a single branch moving.  

Had I imagined it all? Had the whole encounter been in my mind? Did the poison have effects beyond memory loss?

Then, somewhere in the mist, I heard a blood-curdling  _ scream _ ricochet off the trees, flinging itself up into the clouds above the forest. The wood fell from my skirt again as I dropped the hem in terror. 

I was gripped with icy panic. Had the old woman gone after Rameesha? I briefly wondered if it had been Lexa, but I couldn’t imagine such a noise coming from her.

I stood frozen, hoping whatever had elicited the scream didn’t follow the sound of clinking wood toward me. I regretted not bringing a knife with me.

I didn’t know if I should move. I wanted nothing more than to be back in the cottage with the door bolted shut. I couldn’t see it through the mist. Shaking, I put one quiet boot in front of the other, making my way silently back to safety.

Before I could see the cottage through the mist, I spotted Rameesha’s red scarf. She was frozen before me, eyes wide in terror as she looked down at a dark spot on the forest floor. I squinted at it, quickly noticing the crimson tint. 

Blood.

From the spot Rameesha was frozen beside, a trail of dark red dragged in the direction of the cottage. 

Dread spread through me like wildfire, curdling in my stomach and drenching my injured brow. I walked closer to Rameesha, panting, unable to comfort her with anything but my presence. I cursed myself again for not bringing my knife. At least Rameesha had the axe.

She looked up at me, frightened, but tightened her grip on the axe and took a few steps tentatively forward. When the cottage came into view, my heart started pounding twice as hard. The door was hanging open. Inside I could see books strewn on the floor. The great smear of blood led right beside the cottage. 

Rameesha stopped in her tracks. She went pale and didn't take a step further.

We heard movement inside the house and held our breath, terrified.

Then Lexa appeared in the doorway, drawing her hood over her head to cover her braids, looking out at us as she stepped outside. She caught my eye, unsmiling, then disappeared around the side of the house, following the blood stain.

What had she done? She looked almost sinister, cloaked as she was, glaring at me as she followed the trail of blood beside the house. I wondered how much peril I’d put myself in by trusting her. 

Before I could react, a woman appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a cloth. She wore a headscarf similar to Rameesha’s, only it was purple rimmed with gold. When she saw us, she beamed and stepped out, arms outstretched toward Rameesha, as though nothing was amiss. 

"Rameesha!" she cried. "Darling, I'm so sorry!" she said as Rameesha ran into her arms. "I thought I'd make it back last night!" 

"Mama!" Rameesha cried. She dropped the axe in relief as she ran to embrace her. "Mama, where  _ were _ you?"

"I was at at the market trading," the woman said, sinking to her knees and reaching up to cup her daughter's face in relief. "I brought you as many books as I could carry."

Rameesha sank into her mother's arms and held her there, so relieved to know her mother was safe. I felt a pang of jealousy; there had been no mother to welcome me to a cozy cottage, no one to assure me I was safe. I had only Lexa, who was upset with me for being impatient to recover my memories.

"Who’s this?" the woman said, looking up at me with a kind smile. 

"This is Clarke," Rameesha said proudly. "She took care of me."

The woman stood and stepped toward me. "I can't thank you and Lexa enough," she said, taking each of my hand with genuine gratitude. "I'm Sairah."

“Hi,” I mumbled in return, still distracted by the blood smear. I kept staring at it, wondering if I should be concerned.

Sairah noticed my preoccupation.

“Lexa is a skilled huntress,” she said with a smile. “We’ll eat well tonight.”

Relieved to learn that the blood smeared along the ground didn’t belong to a person, I started to relax. But my curiosity about the blood and where Lexa had gone led me to peer around the corner of the house.

Lexa was kneeling beside a wolf, hand on its shoulder, head bowed as her lips moved inaudibly. The wolf's tongue lolled out onto the ground into the pool of blood it lay in. Its fur was thick and fluffy and stood in contrast to the thin, bony joints and paws that stuck out from its side. I couldn't see where the hunting wound was, but the great smear of blood indicated it was significant.  

The sight of the dead animal didn't frighten me so much as knowing such a beast had been nearby during the day. Rameesha had said wolves only lived in the north part of the forest. Had they expanded their territory? What else did the forest contain I hadn't yet seen?

Lexa opened her eyes and looked up at me. She looked sad, as though she hated to see the wolf slain.

"A magnificent beast," she said, rising from where she knelt beside it.

I nodded, wondering what had transpired. Had Lexa gone in search of the wolf? Killed it in self-defense?

"What's wrong?" 

I opened my mouth to say that I’d had a whole conversation with a crone who had helped me gather kindling for our fire when I thought better of it. I didn't want her to think I was crazy. She was the only way I was ever going to find my way out of the woods. 

"I thought I saw a deer." 

Lexa studied me, eyes sweeping over my face. Her mouth tightened.

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

Her face hardened further, and I felt a guilt spring pop open, forcing me to tell the truth.

“It’s probably just the poison, but… I was picking up the wood chips Rameesha and I cut, and as soon as Rameesha went back to get a basket this old woman snuck up on me…”

Lexa didn’t seem surprised at all. Instead she took a quick breath, glancing down at the wolf. She seemed so sad and tired, but at the same time afraid. I wanted to ask what was wrong. But she pulled her cape around her, lifting her chin.

“We should say our goodbyes.” 

“Right now?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The girl’s mother has returned. There’s no reason for us to stay.”

I frowned at her. “Don’t you want to at least stay for the meal Sairah offered us?”

“We need to find your antidote.” 

My frown deepened. She hadn’t been concerned about the antidote an hour before.

“Where do you suggest we find it?”

“The castle,” she said, giving me a look that said it should have been obvious.

I lifted my eyebrows, as though to challenge her assumption I knew there was a castle nearby to begin with.

But she didn’t give me time to question her. She swept past me, rounding the corner of the cottage. I followed.  

“I’m afraid we must leave,” Lexa announced upon entering.

“So soon?” Sairah asked, catching my eye as I hovering in the doorway behind Lexa. "Clarke, you must at least let me take a look at your head." 

I glanced toward Lexa, who gave a begrudging bow of her head, an indication that I should accept Sairah's offer.

I sat, Sairah hovering over me with a cloth and a cup of water. She unwrapped the hasty bandage I had fastened, and I felt the sharp sting as bits of scab were pulled away, stuck to the bandage. I winced.

“Goodness,” Sairah said. “That’s a nasty cut.”

I let out a shaky breath as Sairah dabbed at my forehead, wiping up dried blood. Behind her, Lexa looked around the cottage, collecting our scant belongings. She attached her knife to her belt again and picked up my satchel. When that was done, she began picking up the books that were strewn on the floor, glancing at the spines as she stacked them on the table. 

“It doesn’t look infected,” Sairah said as she dipped her fingers into a small clay pot and smeared something that smelled of eucalyptus and clove onto my forehead. It stung for a second, then felt warm.

“So what do you do, Clarke?” Sairah asked warmly.

I stuttered, unsure what to tell her. I had no idea what I did, other than get beat up and hallucinate old women talking to me.

“She’s my apprentice,” Lexa said from across the room. 

I seemed to be the only person surprised at this statement.

“Ah,” Sairah said, with a smile that seemed conspiratorial. 

I looked at Lexa for explanation, but she was busy putting her sword across her back.

Sairah began rebandaging my head with a clean cloth. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

“We do,” Lexa said, impatient. “We’re on our way to the royal apothecary.”

It’s so odd to me now to think of how her voice used to be in such discord with her intentions. She never allowed herself to appear thoughtful or selfless, though she has been so for as long as she’s breathed. Today, her voice is as sweet as the honey she harvests to mix in our tea and spread on our bread.

“Very good,” Sairah said, finishing my bandage. "Rameesha, today you're going to learn how to pelt a wolf." 

Rameesha clapped her hands as though she'd been told there would be cake after dinner. 

I stood, taking my bag from Lexa and giving Rameesha a pat on the shoulder. Sairah gave us a loaf of bread and a little pot of butter. We said our goodbyes, Lexa hovering by the door impatiently.

“Don’t forget your compass!” Rameesha said as I moved toward the door.

I looked to Sairah, wondering if she would approve of her daughter giving away such a nice piece. Sairah gave me a warm smile and a dip of her chin.

I picked up the compass and put it around my neck. It added some dignity to my otherwise humble outfit, and I liked the security of knowing which direction not to go. 

I said goodbye again and stepped out into the forest behind Lexa, surprised to find the fog had lifted almost completely in the short time we’d been inside. I could see hundreds of yards into ahead now, and sounds seemed to flow normally through the trees. 

We were a few paces from the house when Sairah called Lexa back. Lexa turned, walking back to Sairah, and they exchanged a few hushed words I couldn’t understand. Squinting, I saw Sairah reach into a pocket of her apron, hand curling around something that she drew out and handed to Lexa, giving a reverent nod of her head.

Lexa turned back to me, already having concealed the object somewhere on her person. 

"What was that?" I asked when she returned to my side.

“Nothing,” she said, avoiding my gaze. She looked sad, but determined. “She just wanted to wish us well.”

It wasn’t the first time Lexa had lied to me, but it was the first time I  _ knew _ she was lying. She was hiding something, but I was too scared and alone to press her for the truth. I couldn’t have pried it from her anyway; that’s not how she works. 

Suspicious of everything around me, I fell into step beside her, praying she wasn’t leading me toward any wolves.


	3. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original title for this chapter when I was planning the story was “13” but obviously that’s out of the question, so Dancing will have to do.
> 
> This chapter has a little bit less Lexa than most chapters will have, but she's still there and still her badass self. There's a lot of blood in this chapter but none of it is hers.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

Lexa seemed eager to make our way toward the castle. Her steps were hasty, her strides long. Her brow was set in a look of troubled determination. 

Now it’s been a long time since I saw that look on her face. It’s rare I see her storminess. And yet that clouded concentration was one of the many things that intrigued me about her during those first days. She was such a mystery, and I hadn’t determined what kind yet. 

Now I know just how sacred a mystery can be.

I knew she preferred silence, but after twenty minutes of walking, her brusqueness was beginning to feel like anger and I needed some indication she wasn’t mad at me. I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. I’d come with her the second she wanted to leave Sairah’s cottage, not commenting on the slain wolf or pressing her to tell me what Sairah had given her before we’d left. But since I seemed to slide perilously close to inciting her wrath every time I spoke, I tread lightly.

“Why did you tell Sairah I was your apprentice?”

Lexa pursed her lips. “Its best if people don’t know you were poisoned.”

“Why?”

She glanced at me coolly. “We are vulnerable enough alone in the forest.”

I remembered her stooped over the wolf in its pool of blood. It could have very well been her or myself or Rameesha that suffered the same bloody fate. Who knew what else lurked around us. I swallowed, hoping she knew where we were going, and hoping she wasn’t steering us toward more wolves.

“That wolf,” I started, not knowing how to phrase my question.

“I did what I had to do to protect myself,” she said. “I took no pleasure in killing, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No, I-” 

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, only to reassure her I wasn’t accusing her of being bloodthirsty.

“All life has value, Clarke,” she said. “Even wolves.”

Her statement was in such contrast to the sword slung across her back and the knife at her belt she seemed to reach for at the slightest provocation. But it was my first glimpse into her heart, into the piece of her that has guided all her decisions and thoughts since she first became conscious.

It’s funny to think how bloodily our story began. It seemed not a day went by without a life being taken. Now our days are full of small acts of grace, affirmations of life: flowers picked, dishes washed, hair tucked behind ears, kisses pressed to temples. But in these graces is the knowledge of all the wolves slain in our quest for tranquility. She mourns each one; I remind her mourning is not meant to last forever. We have our peace. It is fortified and protected without holding us captive. For that, I would kill a thousand wolves.

I cleared my throat as though to clear the tension between us. 

“Thank you for helping me,” I said. It was almost difficult to express gratitude, since she was so cold. But I owed her basic graciousness, at least.

“You’re welcome,” she said, softening a bit. She took a few more paces into the forest. “How are your injuries?” 

I scanned through my body, realizing my soreness had abated significantly, my brow hardly stinging at all. “Much better,” I said, conveying my surprise.

Lexa gave a solemn nod. “Perhaps we’ll make it to the castle before sundown tomorrow.”

I was surprised to hear that. In my mind, the castle was only a few hours’ walk from Sairah’s cottage.

“Where will we sleep tonight?” 

Lexa glanced at me, humorless, as though it should be obvious. We would sleep outside, barring other accommodations.

If I had known that, I might have considered staying with Sairah and Rameesha rather than venturing out into the forest again.

But had I done that, I wouldn’t be telling this story.

The day wore on, sun sliding overhead and down toward the horizon. We stopped to eat some of the bread and butter Sairah had given us, our chewing alarmingly loud in the placidness of the forest during the day.

When it grew dim, my hope that we would stumble upon another friendly cottage intensified. But no matter how hard I wished it, I couldn’t conjure lodging for us.

As everything began to fade to shadows, we came across a brook. It trickled and bubbled pleasantly, and I realized how parched I was. I cupped my hands and drank handful after handful, gasping with relief. Lexa crouched a few paces from me, drinking silently.

When she was satisfied, she looked around the forest dell we were traversing. She studied the lean of the trees, the shape of a gentle hill. 

“We’ll stop here.” 

She lifted her sheathed sword over her head and set it down near a tree, sliding herself beside it. Though she hadn’t indicated any discomfort or fatigue during our many hours of walking, the stiff way she set herself on the ground indicated weariness.

I glanced around, unsure why she’d chosen this place above any of the other spots in the forest we’d passed in the last hour. We would be no safer here than in the next dell or the one before. Proximity to water was the only benefit. 

I sat down, cloak billowing around me as I settled. I lifted my satchel off and opened it, squinting inside to see the bread and butter nestled in with my knife and book and quill and flint. 

“Shall we make a fire?” I asked.

Lexa shook her head. “We shouldn’t call attention to ourselves.”

There was something stern and warning in her words that made me chill.

“Are you sure its safe here?”

“As safe as anywhere,” she said. 

I took out the bread and butter and gave her half. She ate quickly, then curled onto her side on the forest floor, drawing her cape over her.

My body was aching from the many miles we’d walked, but there was a wakefulness about the forest that kept me from wanting to close my eyes. In the dark, every moving leaf seemed a potential threat, every sound a lurking predator. I took out my knife, gripping its blade anxiously, studying the moving shadows around me. 

How strange it was, to sit there feeling so small and alone when she was sleeping so softly beside me.

Eventually my tiredness overcame my fear and I lay down, scooting toward her so I would feel protected, but not close enough to disturb her. There seemed to be a knife’s edge to that distance I couldn’t find.

I had just taken a deep, silent breath, willing myself toward sleep when I heard something. It sounded as though the nearby brook grew more animated, as though running over something new. Then the noise shifted and I heard voices. I strained to hear as it got louder. It was a funny, twanging kind of guitar and a small chorus of women singing with it.

I opened my eyes, wondering if my dreams had set in quicker than usual. But even with my eyes open, staring at Lexa’s back, I heard the sound growing louder.

I sat up, trying to determine where it was coming from. 

Over the ridge I could see a faint silver-blue light, as though the moon was reflecting off water. But we’d walked through that dell not so long ago and there wasn’t any water there, nor a source of light.

I listened closer, wondering what was happening.The song sprouted a seed of hope in my chest and I felt myself relax. No evil could be near such beautiful music and such pure voices.

I glanced down at Lexa, who was still curled on her side. She didn’t seem to hear what I was hearing. I debated waking her up to tell her there were people nearby, but she was so mercurial, I decided to see who was making the music before I informed her.

I rose and crept away from Lexa toward the light and sound. I placed my feet slowly and softly on the ground, hoping I wouldn’t make any noise that would call attention to me. But the soles of my shoes were too thick to feel every leaf and twig. I crept further up the hill until I could see where the light was coming from. Standing where Lexa and I had passed through only an hour before was a tree unlike any I had seen before; the branches were searing silver and the leaves were gold and diamonds sparkled like berries in clusters throughout. Light seemed to radiate down onto a circle of twelve girls standing beneath it. 

Their skin was light brown and they were clad in the most beautiful cloth, hanging over their shoulders and sweeping the ground. They wore elaborate jewelry on their heads, around their necks and wrists, dangling from their ears, and tucked into their noses, most of it gold with rubies and other gems sparkling in the light. There were patterns drawn on their hands like intricate brown vines winding up their arms. They were all smiling and laughing as they sang and danced.

The shortest, who looked a few years younger than the other women, held a small instrument in her hands that she was plucking. The tree seemed to shimmer with the music, a gentle rustling of the leaves making a tinkling sound that was beautiful and clear.

I heard a twig snap under my feet and the women stopped singing. Their heads turned simultaneously to where I was peering at them from beside a tree.

A tall girl in a shimmering yellow robe that billowed out around her as she walked broke the ring of singers, moving toward me only silent feet. She spoke in a beautiful, earthy voice. 

"You're not a prince," she frowned.

"Should I be?"

The girl crossed her arms. "How did you discover us?"

I stared at the girl, wondering how much of the truth I should tell her. Lexa had warned me not to tell anyone about the damnumflos poison. It occurred to me that this could be another of my hallucinations, just like the old woman. If so, I shouldn’t implicate Lexa. I was testing her patience enough as it is.

"I’m just traveling through," I said. "Sorry to bother you. I only wanted to see where the music was coming from."

As if collectively appraising me, the group of women broke from their circle and floated toward me, looking me up and down. I admired the designs on their hands and the grandeur of their robes and jewelry. 

The tallest girl bit her lips, squinting. Then her face broke into a smile and she said, "Come with me, dear."

Suddenly shepherded behind an oak tree, I didn't have time to object. I grew anxious as I was surrounded by unfamiliar girls who picked up sections of my hair and lifted the hem of my skirt to see what I was wearing underneath. 

I knew I shouldn’t have ventured away from Lexa. Hopefully if the music started again it would be loud enough to wake her. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, fabric that looked as though fine strands of gold were woven into it was thrust into my arms, accompanied by a tunic like the ones the girls wore under their large scarves.

"Put it on!" the tallest girl giggled. 

I looked blankly at the girls around me. This was certainly my most pleasant hallucination yet, if indeed I was hallucinating. The clothing they’d given me was beautiful. But if I was hallucinating, I thought it best not to disrobe and wake a moment later to find myself covered in leaves or in some other compromised state that might further alienate Lexa.

Since I hesitated, the girls stripped me down to my slip. As the tunic dress was lifted over my head and the scarf draped over me by two dozen quick hands, I surrendered to whatever was happening. I felt my bandage pulled off and my hair being swept up into a twist and topped with something heavy and elegant. I could only assume it was jewelry to match those of the girls around me. Lifting a hand to touch it, I found my injury was almost completely healed and that a heavy diadem had been placed on my head. 

Then the tallest of the girls knelt before me and placed a pair of golden slippers at my feet. She removed my shoes and I felt my feet breathe, relieved to be out of my stiff, heavy boots. I slid into the slippers and couldn’t help but smile. 

The girls didn’t settle from their flurry once I was dressed. "Quick, they’ll be here soon!" they whispered, taking me by the hand to guide me through the forest. 

“Who?”

“The princes!” the girls laughed. They tugged at my hands, trying to bring me along with them.

“I can’t--” I started to say.

But my words fell on deaf ears, and they chattered around me like a swarm of excited birds, pulling me forcefully with them. I tried to extract myself, tried to break away, but it seemed my feet were carrying me along with them, as though I was a leaf in a river.

“I have to get back to my camp,” I said several times. 

They pulled me deeper into the forest until we came to great lake. The water only confounded me more; I was sure Lexa and I had walked through this area only an hour or two before, and there hadn’t been a body of water this big. Across the lake was an unusual and large castle, with tall spires that glowed gold as though illuminated by candlelight. Flags waved from the rounded turrets and a path extended from the entrance toward the far shore.

My thoughts flew to Lexa and I regretted not waking her. We had been trying to get to the castle, and here it was, only a short distance away.

"The castle,” I said, sighing in relief. “Can I see the royal apothecary? I need to see him.”

The girls around me giggled as though it was the most foolish suggestion they'd heard in weeks.

"Apothecary!" one girl laughed. 

"We don’t have one of those. The only thing that happens inside our castle is dancing."

"Every night, another festival!" a girl in a violet gown crowed.

"Dancing until dawn!"

“The food…”

"And music..." another said, as though it was the grandest music I would ever hear.

Disheartened, I frowned at the castle across the lake. I was certain now this was a hallucination. In the real world, girls like me didn’t get whisked away to a secret castle in the middle of the night. I glanced behind me for Lexa, hoping she would come shake me out of my delusion. But she wasn’t there. The forest was black behind us, even the jeweled tree faded from sight. 

This kind of strange, distorted experience was becoming too frequent. I didn’t like it one bit.

I had to get away. If I could make it back to Lexa by following the brook, maybe I could escape the delusion before she noticed I was having one. I turned to run backwards into the forest toward her, but one of the girls caught me, giving me a disapproving frown. I wrestled my wrist from her, and before I knew it more hands were upon me, pulling me out on a dock, their fine shoes soft on the wooden boards. They thrust me into a boat and shoved it off the shore. 

Stunned and afraid, I looked up to see a man standing over me. He wore a similar tunic to the one I had on under the large scarf I’d been wrapped in. His expression was static and almost eerie. His smile stayed tight and his eyes were glazed over, as though he didn't truly see me. Something about him was robotic. He rowed mechanically away from the shore. I looked back, watching as the rest of the girls got into boats and followed mine.

I had no idea what to do. I had no desire to go into the castle, and certainly no desire to be in a small boat with a strange man. I would have jumped overboard, but I doubted I’d be able to swim, and who knew what lurked beneath the black waters. I didn't trust anyone or anything I saw. I felt a pang in my chest, wishing for nothing more than to be beside Lexa.

The man rowing me away from her gave me a stiff smile. "Do not worry," he said. "Tonight will be fun."

It’s funny how some people reassuring you can do the opposite. This strange man with glassy eyes and an impersonal smile only made me more nervous. But if it had been Lexa trying to soothe me, I might have believed it. At least I like to think so. 

I wondered if, once we docked, I could make a run for it, skirting the lake back to the shore we’d departed from, following the brook back to her. But it was so dark, with only a sliver of moon above, and I’d left my satchel with the flint beside her. If I ever made it back to her, I vowed not to take a single step without it secured across my body. 

The boat shifted and I was rocked to the side. As though to remind me of its presence, the compass Rameesha had given me dragged across my torso right under my breasts, its metal warmed from my body heat. A spark of hope zipped through me. I had something of use with me after all. Glancing up at the man to see if he was watching me, I surreptitiously took out the compass and noted the direction the needle was pointing. It pointed directly back to the shore we’d left from. That was easy enough; Lexa and I had been journeying north. I could simply follow the needle back to her. 

With that tiny bit of consolation, I tucked the compass back under my tunic and let myself be rowed toward the castle, smiling nervously at the prince. When we docked, he stepped out and reached for my hand, helping me step onto the dock. 

I sprang away from him, determined to run the perimeter of the lake back to Lexa, who would surely defend me with her sword. But as my body listed away, my feet disobeyed me and I toppled over, making a loud _thud_ on the dock. 

The prince's smile stayed in place as he said, "Are you okay, Your Highness?"

I almost scowled at being called Your Highness. “No, I’m not okay. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to my camp.”

“Oh, but you’ll have such a good time. I promise,” he said, still glassy. “At least stay for one dance.”

I didn’t lift my scowl an inch. 

“I will personally return you to your camp, so long as you accompany me inside. It would be terribly embarrassing to arrive without a dance partner.”

I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t give a damn if he had to arrive at the castle without a partner, but as he held his clean, formal hand out to me, something dammed my words, rendering me mute. Emotionless, I reached forward, taking his hand, letting him guide me up the lit path toward the gates.

"Nice to meet you, Clarke," he said. It didn’t register as odd to me at the time that he knew my name. I felt I’d been cast into some kind of cloud or trance, where all I could do was notice things around me without reaction or emotion. I was perception and air and cloth and not much else. 

The ballroom was the most beautiful palace I had ever seen -- granted, I couldn’t remember seeing one before -- and was illuminated in bright gold light. A band was playing jubilant music and the walls were lined with rich, colorful tapestries and paintings of warrior women and goddesses. There were long tables draped with lush tablecloths, covered with the most fragrant food and drink I could imagine. The whole room smelled of spices and incense. Flowers were woven into wreaths around the room, hanging from walls and surrounding bowls of fruit and custards. The whole room seemed to sing with the joy of festival, and I was suddenly certain nothing foul would befall me here.

I was inundated, feeling myself lift higher into the cloud of thoughtless perception. 

The man who had rowed me to the castle took my hand and led me around the room, letting my beautiful robes sweep across the marble, my soft shoes making the motions effortless. His firm hand on my waist guided me and I only faltered for a minute when I realized I didn't know the dance. But with such a confident dance partner, I realized it didn't matter. All I had to do was step in time to the music and try not to tread on his shoes.

After the first dance, I felt I would be content to never leave this castle again. If I could live here, dancing every night, feasting on fine food and drink, and dancing with handsome men, I would be happy forever. I found myself laughing and smiling as the room spun around me.

For the next round, the prince led me in a dance that was just a bit faster than the first. As we swept but a table, I plucked a stuffed date, popping it in my mouth. It was the most delicious thing I had tasted in my life. I breathed a sigh of content and watched the whirling princesses around me.

The music softened and the princesses led their princes to tables, offering them food and wine. Each princess lifted a goblet to her prince’s lips, smiling with encouragement as he drank. Then she would set it down and lead him back onto the floor.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I felt myself growing weary and sore. I stopped as often as I could to feed myself, taking bites of curries and puddings and dumplings and spiced fruit, then drifted back to the dance floor, hazy with weary pleasure.

Dizzy, I looked down at the gold slippers I was wearing. Appearing suddenly beside me, the eldest princess giggled. "We go through oh so many shoes."

I gave a confused nod and looked back at the dance floor. The princes were dancing feverishly, as though they were racing to see who could take the most steps before daybreak. They looked possessed, and it quite unnerved me.

Seeing my alarm, the eldest princess drew close to me and said in a low whisper, “Don’t worry, they’ll be just fine.”

I glanced back and forth between the eldest princess and the dance floor, growing nervous. Was there more to this scene than I could see? I set my brow in a confused smile. 

"Who are these princes?" I asked.

"They're suitors." Her voice was void of any delight or intrigue. She surveyed the dance floor, not moving a muscle for a moment before she said, "I suppose some would consider us lucky." She didn't speak for a moment longer, watching her sisters and the entranced men spin faster on the floor in front of her. "But we've no interest in getting married."

I didn't know what to make of that comment. I turned back to the dance floor, hoping to find more clues as to what was going on in this strange castle. 

"In our castle, princes are merely for dancing," she said. 

I studied the men more closely. As though controlled by invisible strings, they danced feverishly, gazes locked on invisible objects before their eyes.

The sisters, on the other hand, moved in perfect unison, arms outstretched, drawing invisible swirls on the floor, skirts swinging with grace as necks were held long and heads tall, the choreography executed flawlessly. I found myself in rapt attention. They were mesmerizing

But glancing back at the princes, I remembered that I didn't trust this kingdom. 

I closed my eyes. This was a hallucination. If I concentrated hard on telling myself that, maybe it would disappear. I thought of the glen where Lexa was sleeping and willed myself to be back there, safe by her side. 

"You'll get back in time," the princess beside me said. "But it would be rude to leave now."

That struck panic into my heart like nothing else that had happened that night. 

Could she read my thoughts?

"What’s wrong with the princes?" I asked, eyes flickering to where they were dancing frantically, unblinking. 

The princess tilted her head and gave a funny giggle. "He does look a little funny. But he's harmless. And such a good dance partner!"

"No," I said, not wanting to get distracted by the grandeur around me and miss the strangeness of it. "Something's wrong."

The princess reached behind me to a goblet of wine. "Here," she said. "This will help you keep up your strength for dancing."

I looked at the wine, realizing how parched I was. But some shred of clarity clung to me, telling me I shouldn’t drink it. All the princes had been given wine, and now they looked possessed.

“No thanks,” I said.

She held it to my lips forcefully, and I smacked it away. It spilled down my dress, staining it red, and the goblet clattered to the floor. The floor began to pool bright red, redder than the burgundy wine, red as -- 

Red as blood.

The dance floor was streaked with blood leaking from the shoes of the princes. My own shoes were covered in blood, and suddenly my feet were screaming. 

Terror flooded through me as the grandeur around me started tumbling down. The tapestries fell into shreds, the tables collapsed, the strings on the instruments popped. The men on the dance floor began to fall down unconscious, blood soaking into their robes. I screamed and screamed as the walls started to crumble and fall. I was going to be crushed before I managed to escape and run back to Lexa.

Then everything went black and I could no longer scream. 

I felt hands on me, shaking me. I was on the ground, panting as I took in great, gasping breaths of earthy air. I opened my eyes. I was outside. It was light enough that I could make out everything around me, cling to it in my desperate need to know what was real. I was in the forest right where I’d fallen asleep next to Lexa. She was hovering over me, hands on my shoulders as I lay frozen and terrified.

“You’re okay,” Lexa said. 

I kept panting as the trees came into focus behind her. Gradually I came down from my panic and sighed, exhausted. As soon as I shut my eyes again, Lexa let go of me and stood up.

“Did you have a good time?” She asked.

Her voice anchored me back on the bank where we’d slept. I slowed and turned my head to look at her. She had one eyebrow quirked, but she was unsmiling, as usual. She seemed almost disapproving.

I glanced down at my clothes, seeing I was once again clad in my ugly brown dress and heavy wool cape. For a split-second I was disappointed, then relieved. 

It had been a dream.

Nothing more than a strange, frightening dream.

“I…” I panted, glad to be back in her presence. “I had… the craziest dream.”

She gave a soft nod, as though to forgive me for whatever folly I’d entertained. 

“I was wearing this beautiful dress, and there were these women dancing… They took me to a palace and there was music and food...”

Her face remained solemn.

“I could feel and taste everything like it was real.” I paused, noting that even though I’d only eaten bread and butter the night before, I wasn’t hungry at all. I could almost taste curry in my mouth.

I covered my face with my hands, sinking into hopelessness. Lexa had said that the effects of the poison sometimes became permanent, and it had been almost two days since I’d woken up in the clearing, beat up and scared. I was just as disoriented and confused as I had been then. Hope for anything different started to drain from me.

“I’m going crazy, aren’t I?” 

Lexa busied herself dusting off her cape, seeming unconcerned with my agony.

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. 

Her unwillingness to entertain my anxiety prompted me to sit up and try to shake off any excess self-pity. She was taking me to the castle where the apothecary would help me recover my memories. Hopefully then the hallucinations would stop.

She fastened her cape around her neck and strapped her sword across her back. I reached for my satchel and fastened my cloak.

Then I saw them. 

Beside my bare feet were the gold slippers. They were threadbare and worn, as though I’d been trekking through the forest in them for days. They were caked in blood.

I gasped, then glanced up at Lexa.

She gave my shoes only a passing glance, then looked away in the direction we would be walking.

“It _was_ real,” I said. 

She said nothing.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

Lexa took a slow, weary breath. “You speak like the difference between the two was significant.”

I wasn’t sure if she was mocking me or deliberately trying to confuse me.

“You could have woken me, you know,” she said, her voice lower. 

If I had known her better, I would have heard what she was trying to tell me: she’d felt left out, disappointed I’d left her to venture off on my own.

But I didn’t know her at all.

She quickly covered up the admission.

“You shouldn't go wandering around the forest by yourself. There are worse things than a few bruises and lost memories.”

It was a reprimand, one I took to be a pointed reminder I wasn’t mentally stable.

“Will you be able to walk in those?” 

I looked down at the worn slippers and nodded. Not because I thought I’d enjoy walking in blood-caked slippers through the uneven terrain of the forest, but because I had no choice. My boots were nowhere in sight, and I wasn’t about to let her leave me alone solely because I had improper footwear.

“Good,” she said, nodding as though she wanted me to stand and begin walking immediately. “You should wash your feet. We should try to reach the castle by nightfall.” 

I stood, unsteady as I got my bearings, shaking off the last of the whirling memories from the night before. My body was drooping with exhaustion, as though I really had danced for hours without stopping. 

My feet were tender as I took the first few tentative steps toward the brook. I splashed water on my face and drank deeply while Lexa watched. I dipped my feet in, wincing as they stung with the cold. I rubbed places where the blood had caked on, trying to avoid touching the blisters and sores directly. Then I put the bloody shoes back on and we set out for the castle.

My feet ached. The slippers rubbed against the backs and sides of my feet unrelentingly. I knew my feet would be raw within an hour. And yet the forest floor was so unforgiving the slippers were better than wearing no shoes at all. 

We walked all day, stopping to eat the rest of our bread while resting on a fallen tree covered in damp moss. The forest was still, the only sounds our own footsteps and the birds and forest creatures around us. It was a pleasant walk, for the most part, and it seemed we found a stream every time they grew thirsty. 

The trees around us began to grow taller and thicker, as though sealing us deeper inside the woods. Light strained to find us, and a chill wound its way in through the seams of my cloak and under the hem of my skirt. My feet were bleeding, I was sure, but they were so cold I couldn’t feel them.

As the sun sank in the sky and we still hadn't arrived at the castle, I grew worried. The forest began to creep closer to my face, and it was harder to breathe. I walked closer to Lexa, grateful I had my knife. 

I was about to ask her if we could stop and rest when someone jumped out of a tree and grabbed me, arm across my chest, yanking my arm behind me, knife at my throat. I shrieked, trying to throw him off, as two men in dark forest camouflage slunk up to me. 

“This her?” a gruff voice croaked in my ear.

“What do we have here?” one of them growled, his voice sinister as he approached. “A girl wandering in the woods all alone? Mighty suspicious to me…”

My heart was hammering as the man holding me tightened his grip. I tried to turn my head to see if Lexa had been captured too, but I couldn’t see her. 

A man with a shaved head and deep frown set into the lines of his face approached me, grabbing my chin, turning my face side to side. He grunted, then picked up a chunk of my hair, smelling it. It felt horribly invasive, to be examined in such a way. He noted my clothing, frown growing deeper. She saw the chain of the compass around my neck and drew it out, dragging it up my body, making me feel like I would wretch.

He examined it, frowning. “Pretty, but it don’t work,” he said. “Needle don’t point north.”

His companion grunted in disapproval and he let the compass fall against my body.

“What are you doing in this part of the forest, little lady?”

I found the lump of fear in my throat was too thick to speak around.

“Cat got your tongue?”

I trembled. “I’m just--on my way to the castle,” I managed to stutter. 

“Is that so?” he said, a smirk overtaking his face. “Do you think anyone there would object to you paying them a visit?”

I glanced furiously around for Lexa again. Where was she?

“I don't--I don’t think so?” My voice curled up with panic.

Then, as though he heard a call in the distance, the man looked away. His brow furrowed again, but rather than looking angry or malicious, he looked confused. His companion looked away as well, then I felt the arms wrapped around me loosen and let go. They wandered off into the forest as though they had never seen me, not even looking back in my direction.

I lifted my hand to my throat, touching where the blade had been pressed a moment ago, taking big breaths of earthy air. I rubbed my arm where it had been yanked behind my back. 

Lexa slid up beside me, watching as the men walked away.

“It’s okay,” she hummed quietly, eyes still trained on the men. “They’ll leave us alone.”

I looked at her, dumbfounded. How had she managed to escape the men’s notice? 

“What the hell was that?” I asked.

She pursed her lips, distracted as she watched them retreat. “They’re looking for someone.”

I frowned at her. “For _me_?”

She finally broke her gaze and turned to me. “No,” she said certainly. “They’re not looking for you.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“They would have taken you with them,” she said.

I wasn’t convinced. Something was odd about the whole exchange. “Why did they just let me go like that?”

Lexa’s face was still troubled. She paused, considering, then ignored my question. “We should keep going. Who knows who else is out here.”

I heard a rumble in the distance and looked up. The clouds overhead were threatening.

"It looks like it's going to rain." 

Lexa put one foot in front of the other. “We should try to make it to the castle." She shivered a bit. "It's just over the hill." 

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Sairah told me.”

Another lie.

I looked ahead and nodded, thinking that the hill in front of us looked quite big to climb in the quickly fading light. 

With a mighty crack, the sky split down the middle and it began to pour. Giant droplets of rain began pelting through the forest canopy. We darted under a thick-branched tree and glanced at each other, concerned. Raindrops landed with thick plops on the ground, soaking through her cape despite the tree above us. In a minute she was drenched to the bone, blue and chattering.

She gave a mighty shudder, clutching at her elbows. "Shall we keep g-going?" she shuddered. 

I nodded, the prospect of adequate shelter as motivating as anything. We trudged through the forest, mud caking itself on our shoes and hems. 

When they were halfway up to the ridge, I took pity on her. She was chattering and her lips were blue, and although I was cold myself, I didn't want her to fall ill. So I loosened the tie on my cloak and held it out, wordlessly offering her shelter. Rain pelted our faces and soaked into our hair. It would have felt nice to be cleansed if the water hadn’t been so cold and the wind so harsh. 

Finally, we reached the edge of the woods. Before us stood a muddy field, beyond which sat a heavy structure of stone and steel. Barbed wire coated every surface, and from far away, it looked like a cluster of thorns. It was rusted in places, welded together haphazardly, looking as though it ought to screech and groan in the storm. 

I felt myself chill beyond the freezing rain, and wondered what nightmare Lexa was leading me into now.


	4. Tripwire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this one took so long! I’m going to try to post once a week, but if I don’t… oops. I’m excited to hear reactions to this one. Sometimes as I’m writing I feel like I’m depicting a mild acid trip, but hopefully that doesn’t deter anyone. I promise it comes together in the end.
> 
> Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

We walked the final distance to the castle together, huddled under my cloak. I was so conscious of her shoulder pressed to mine, so cautious not to lean into her too much. I could feel what little warmth the storm hadn’t whipped away from her, and I was wary of soaking up too much of it.

To think I ever shied from her warmth perplexes me. Last week we were caught in a storm on the way back from the village, and she ducked under my cloak without invitation, sliding her arm around my waist, planting a kiss on my cheek as we huddled together, darting through the downpour, warm despite the weather. She is always warm, always welcoming of any touch or closeness. If I had known then that being caught in the rain with her could be as lovely as sitting in the sunshine, perhaps I would have asked her to stay out in the cold with me a minute longer.

At the edge of the forest, she hesitated, holding me and the cloak back with her. I saw a flash of fear in her eyes.

“What?” I asked.

She swallowed. “Queen Xara is… powerful,” she hedged. “But benevolent. We have nothing to fear.” Her jaw set in determination

I frowned at her. Had she not offered up reassurance, I wouldn’t have been as afraid as I suddenly was.

“Do you know her?”

“She was once married to the king of the land where I grew up. Their separation caused much turmoil.”

“What kind of turmoil?”

Lexa gave a little shake of her head, staring blankly at the castle before us. “Change is difficult for everyone.”

I was so tired and cold and frustrated, no matter how foreboding the castle looked, I was desperate to get inside and rest. The promise of food and warmth overrode my annoyance at her coded speech.

“Yes, well… I’d really like to _change_ out of these wet clothes,” I said, trying to urge her from where she’d frozen on the edge of the forest. “I don’t think the apothecary will come out here to meet us in this weather.”

She glanced toward me, as though she’d forgotten for a second I was standing under the cloak with her. “Of course.”

She began walking again, faster than before. I kept pace, the pain in my feet shooting up into my legs. I bit my lip and bore it, the promise of respite increasing my tolerance.

When we arrived at the gate, tired and soaked to the bone, she seemed scared again, as though second-guessing her decision to seek lodging here. She took a stiff breath and ducked out from under my cloak, letting it flop, heavy and wet, back against me. She drew her soggy, thin hood over her head and called out to the guard, who could scarcely hear her over the fierce pattering of the rain.

He approached, and I felt myself shrinking as I took in his wide shoulders braced with metal pauldrons that barely overshadowed his hefty biceps. He strode forward with an intimidating lumber. He wore a scowl that seemed to have set in a permanent shape on his face.

"What business have you here?" he said, drawing up in an effort to intimidate us.

"We seek shelter from the the storm," she said, cool and challenging.

If she quivered, it was only beneath the steel of her posture. The guard looked down at me, scrutinizing my features and attire.

“You let your servant speak for you?” he asked, looking me up and down critically.

“Our kingdom believes in free discourse between all citizens,” she said before I could respond.

I puzzled at her. What game was she playing now? First she’d told Sairah I was her apprentice and now she was pretending to be my servant. Why would he think she was my servant? I was dressed so plainly while she at least looked respectable.

“Of course," the guard said, bowing in apology. He gave a mighty whistle that rang shrill in my ears. Right away two gentlemen in castle robes appeared.

"Take these ladies to Queen Xara," the guard said.

We were led up the steps of the palace into a hall dimly lit with candles. Being out of the wind eased the chill out of my bones a bit, though I was still soaked through and my feet were screaming.

"Ladies," a smooth voice rang through the stone throne room. "Welcome to Xarageda.”

We looked down the long carpet that ran to a set of thrones, only one of which was occupied. A tall, thin woman with olive skin and black hair was dressed in royal blue robes was seated primly on her solid wood throne.

I took down my hood and dipped my head in respect.

"Your Highness," I mumbled.

I glanced at Lexa, who kept her hood up over her head like a shroud, such that I couldn’t see her face, save for her chin and mouth. I thought it might be considered rude, but no one said anything of it.

"Have you brought me anything?"

“Um… no,” I said, suddenly afraid I should have.

The queen’s eyebrow lifted and her gaze flitted around the room, then alighted back on me. She didn’t look at Lexa.

"I assume you’ve come to seek my son's hand in marriage," Xara said with a cool voice. "I must warn you that many girls have tried, and none have succeeded."

I looked at Lexa, unable and unwilling to hide my confusion. She hadn’t said anything about meeting a prince, and I had no intention of vying for anyone’s hand in marriage. Lexa had maintained we were in search of an antidote for the poison that had erased my memories, though she still hadn’t told me what business she had running around the woods between kingdoms on her own.

She kept her head down, looking monk-like in her stoic disregard for what was playing out before her.

More uneasy by the second, I looked back to Xara, who had an expectant expression on her face.

“I was hoping to see the royal apothecary,” I said apologetically. “I sustained quite a few injuries during my travels.”

Xara frowned, sizing me up as she considered. I felt something quicken inside me, nervous that she was as dark and wicked as the exterior of her palace suggested.

"Are you not a princess?" she asked.

I looked to Lexa again, hoping she would speak up and explain why we’d come. Her silence was making me uneasy. But she stayed frozen, head bent under her hood.

I was at a loss.

“I am, your Highness,” I said, trying to sound confident to compensate for the lie. “A very lost one, at that," I added, brow furrowing in mock dismay.

Before you judge me for telling such a far-fetched and potentially dangerous lie, let me remind you I was in a strange kingdom, having been led there by a strange girl, with no money or food, on feet that had been bleeding through my shoes. I was desperate for comfort and hospitality. If Lexa wasn’t going to speak for me, I would do what I had to do to secure lodging and food for the night.

"If you would let us rest here until the storm has passed, we would be forever be indebted to you."

The Queen hummed, seemingly appeased by my feigned respect for her. "You must try your luck at winning my son's hand once you’ve rested. I'm very anxious for him to be wed, you see. Without a female heir, the kingdom is vulnerable.”

My eyes grew wide at Xara's candor. It hardly seemed appropriate to be talking about producing an heir with an alleged princess she’s just met, and I’d never heard of a matriarchal kingdom. But then again, as Lexa had so harshly pointed out just the day before, I hadn’t heard of many things. Not that I could recall.

It was tense and quiet. I didn’t know what to say.

"Very well," Xara said, signaling to a servant. "This man will escort you to the guest's sleeping quarters. I will see you at morning meal and we shall discuss your future with this kingdom.”

I nodded dumbly, eager to leave the room.

Xara waved her hand, dismissing us.

I bowed gratefully before following the servant. Lexa trailed behind me as though she too were a servant. I wanted to catch her eye to ask without words what was going on, but she purposefully kept her eyes averted.

I could feel a low rumble in me, a fury that came only with knowing I’d been deceived or manipulated. I was positive she knew more about this kingdom than she was telling me, and I was fairly certain she was weaving me into a web of lies I had no interest in holding. I felt like I’d been manipulated into lying about being royalty.

We were led down a long stone corridor and taken to the biggest bedroom I had ever seen. The ceilings were thirty feet high with windows stretching from floor to ceiling along one wall, frames plated with gold, ceiling painted with glimmering stars and golden moon. The room was filled with white candlelight and the warmth of a giant hearth, which almost offset the rain pelting against the windows. A silk-covered couch sat beside the fire.

But the most peculiar thing about the room was the bed: it stood in the middle of the room, a stack of mattresses twenty feet high with a ladder resting against one side. I tilted my head and examined it.

“Is there anything I can do for you, your Highness?” the servant asked, holding out two soft, dry robes.

I startled at being called Your Highness; my memory may have been gone, but I was certain I had never been called that before.

“No, thank you,” I said, taking the robes. “You’re dismissed.”

The servant left with a stiff bow, closing the door behind him.

Finally alone, I whirled around to Lexa.

“What the hell is going on?” I hissed.

“What do you mean?” Lexa asked, tilting her head in an infuriating expression of confused innocence that only made me angrier.

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Why do they think I’m _royal_?”

“Perhaps you carry yourself like royalty.”

I glared at her. “No princess would wear something like this,” I said, gesturing to my soaked peasant’s garb.

Lexa blinked a few times but didn’t respond. The expression only served to whirl my fear and anger further forward.

“What are we really doing here, Lexa?” I demanded. “Are we really here to see the apothecary?”

She blinked once more before she answered. “Of course.”

I took a menacing step toward her. “Are you sure about that?”

Her face set into a perplexed and troubled frown. “Yes. Why would I lie about helping you?”

Her lack of response to my anger deflated me. I let out a frustrated sigh. I couldn’t pretend I had anything to hold over her. She had protected me for no reason I could identify, and my suspicion and anxiety from all the strangeness around me was turning that into a bad thing. “I don’t know.”

Lexa looked around the room, still troubled. “I like to think some people do things just because it’s the right thing to do.”

Too tired and in pain to receive her words for the sorrowful plea they were, I sighed again.

“Whatever,” I said, flinging one of the robes at her.

She flinched as she caught it and I turned around, stripping off my filthy, soaked clothing. Behind me I heard her do the same.

It’s funny to think how modest we once were with each other. Now her body is as familiar to me as my own, her naked form as comforting as the smell of fresh sheets or the sound of rain on our roof. I never think to turn away; instead I study the grace of her movement, the texture of her skin, the freckles and tones different seasons press into her. I wonder how her body will look ten years from now, and twenty, and forty. Sometimes I wish I could reach through time, telling her the girl I am already adores the woman she will be.

In a world with so much moving uncertainty, I know that much at least.

Without looking at her, I looked at the ladder, wondering why on earth someone would stack so many mattresses when just one would do. Leaving my bloody, freezing shoes on the stone floor, I started to climb up. Once I reached the top, I was relieved to see the bed was huge: big enough to sleep five or six people comfortably. It hadn’t looked that big from the floor, but it was difficult to gauge the size due to how high the mattresses were stacked. This castle seemed to have a strange sense of space.

I flopped into the pillowy duvet, feeling my bones loosen and my muscles cry with relief. I had never been so grateful for a bed. Well, not that I could recall. My feet stung as the soft fabric of the sheets dragged over my blisters and scrapes and tried to warm them. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to audibly wince as the pain slowly faded.

I heard Lexa’s feet whispering on the floor below for a minute until they stopped. I wondered what she was doing, but didn’t want to initiate any more conversation.

Then, in a soft, sorrowful voice, I heard her call, “Goodnight.”

I had expected her to climb up and sleep somewhere on the great expanse of bed, but it seemed she had been warded off by my anger.

“Night,” I grunted, drawing the duvet up to my chin, warding off any ill will that might float through the air and settle on me.

If I had been in a more sympathetic mood, I might have tossed her one of the many pillows I had up on the gargantuan bed tower I was in, or even invited her up to sleep in more comfort. But I was angry and scared and doubting her character more by the second, so I stayed quiet. I justified my lack of compassion by entertaining the possibility that she might be more comfortable on the couch below. It was better than the forest bank we’d slept on the previous night, and the fire was putting out plenty of heat to keep her warm.

Before I could close my eyes, I saw something shift in the light on the ceiling. The hearth put out a soft, steady golden glow, but for a moment there was a flicker of dancing blue that darted around the corners of the room. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it. I frowned, wondering where it was coming from.

I peered over the edge of the mattress, careful not to roll to close to it, and looked down to see what she was doing.

The first thing I saw was that she had draped our clothing over chairs in front of the fireplace so they would dry. She’d placed my blood-soaked shoes next to her boots where the heat from the fire would suck all the water out as we slept. It was such a small gesture, but a tender one.

She did a good job of hiding her softness for the first few days I knew her. Now it seems I know nothing _but_ her tenderness.

She was curled on the couch beside the fire, a thin blanket drawn over her with another in place of a pillow. I didn’t see anything glowing or blue, so I figured I must have imagined it just like I’d imagined the old woman in the forest and the twelve dancing girls and the bloody ballroom. It was possible the entire castle was a figment of my troubled mind. Perhaps even _she_ was; no one else had acknowledged her presence since we’d arrived.

The task of questioning everything in my existence was too much for my addled mind. I closed my eyes, begging a dreamless sleep to find me.

Sleep didn’t find me right away. The thought of what might happen kept me conscious. After my adventure the night before — I still wasn’t sure if I’d hallucinated or if some of it had been real — I didn’t want to be twenty feet in the air when I started seeing things again. I almost wanted to ask her to switch places with me, but my shame and anger and distrust stopped me. I deserved to sleep in a comfortable bed for a night, and I didn’t want fear to stop me. And I didn’t want to depend on her until I knew she was trustworthy.

Wanting to distract myself, I took out the compass Rameesha had given me, remembering how the men who’d seized me in the forest had said it was broken. I hadn’t tried to use it yet, since Lexa had seemed to know where she was going and following her was easier than trying to navigate foreign terrain myself. Now I wondered if I should be trying to find my own path rather than tripping along beside her on her quest for something she wasn’t telling me about.

The needle on the compass wavered a little, pointing toward the fireplace. I squinted at it, seeing the ruby glow blood-red in the firelight, wondering if it was pointing north. I was disoriented; the storm and the twisting palace corridors had spun me around, leaving me without an internal sense of direction, and the storm raging through the window provided no indication of where the sun would come up. I made a note to look in the morning, checking the needle against where the light first came from on the horizon, and tucked the compass back into my robe. I took slow, methodical breaths, hoping to welcome a gentle sleep.

I slept soundly for a few hours, and if I dreamed, I don’t recall what of. I awoke several hours later as though jolted by something. Remembering I was on a great tower of mattresses in a strange kingdom, I felt afraid. I wondered if a peal of thunder had startled me. But the rain had softened to a gentle patter, and I couldn’t hear anything else outside the room.

No sooner had my heart settled and I had decided to try to return to sleep when I heard a scraping shuffle in the room below. It didn’t sound like Lexa’s soft footsteps. Were there rats in our room? A stray cat that had decided to explore the room at night? A chambermaid come to tidy our things?

I rolled toward the edge of the bed and look down. Frightened by the sheer height of being twenty feet in the air, I clung to the edge of the mattress, grateful for the comforters that weighted me to the bed.

Lexa was gone from her place on the couch. That alone was enough to make me suspicious, but my fear was multiplied when I spotted the strange old woman from the forest shuffling around, looking in corners and under chairs. She muttered something, but I couldn't make out what it was. Then I saw her reach for my satchel and open it, examining the contents.

I had so few things in the world, seeing someone go through my belongings refueled my anger. I had had everything taken from me already. What did this old woman want with an old, blank book, a flint, three gold pieces, and a knife?

On instinct, I moved toward the ladder, slow and quiet as to not alert her to my presence. Once on the floor, I spotted Lexa’s knife resting on the chair where our clothing was draped to dry. I picked it up, gripping it in a tight fist. I slunk behind the old woman and grabbed her cloak, holding the knife up.

"What are you doing!" I hissed.

The old woman yelped and spun around, glaring at me. My satchel fell to the ground, its contents spilling.

I realized then that sneaking up on someone who was up to no good was a bad idea. I hoped Lexa would return and help me if this woman meant harm. She seemed to be able to ward off harm as easily as she led me into it.

The old woman looked me up and down before her expression turned sinister. "Looking for treasure." Her voice crackled and her eyes burned with malice.

I glanced behind her at the door, hoping to see Lexa returning, but saw only firelight glinting off the handle.

"I don’t have any treasure," I growled, doubling my grip on the knife. I hardly counted the three pieces of gold that were in my own bag as treasure. “What did you do with her?”

“Do with _who_?” the old woman said, her smile indicating she knew exactly who I was talking about.

“Lexa,” I said. “She was sleeping right there.” I nodded toward the sofa, where the blanket Lexa had been sleeping under was pooled on the seat as though she’d risen without thinking to fold it.

“Lexa… Lexa…” the old woman mocked. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

My heart was racing cold and furious. I was terrified that something bad had happened. I wanted to throttle the woman, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I hissed, " _Get out_ or I'll call the guards."

The old woman's smile didn't falter and she muttered, "The guards can't help you, my dear..." She shook her head as though I were foolish.

Feeling powerless and confused, I raised my knife closer to the woman's throat. "Get out," I repeated.

Chuckling to herself, the old woman backed away, shuffling toward the door and shutting it noiselessly behind her. I followed her, making sure the latch clicked. I would have locked it had Lexa not been missing. I walked to the couch, sitting down in relief and defeat as my heart began to slow. The coldness of the stone floor was simultaneously soothing and harsh on my battered feet.

I studied Lexa’s knife, its wide triangular blade and wooden handle with tiny metal studs. It was heavy in my trembling hand. I wondered where she’d gone and why she hadn’t taken it with her. Had she been taken against her will? I looked around for clues. Her clothing was hung up to dry, and her shoes were in place. My stomach dropped. What would I do if I had to face Xara alone in the morning? How would I explain Lexa’s absence? Where would I go next?

Then I noticed that the place where Lexa had set my shoes was empty. Perhaps she’d taken them. Though, why she’d want to wear threadworn, bloody shoes was lost on me.

I sighed, feeling lost and hopeless as ever. As much as I didn’t trust Lexa, her presence made me feel slightly less alone. Without any memories or loved ones to think of, sitting on that couch with her knife, I was utterly alone.

There’s a strange sense of belonging that one feels they should have when they have nothing and no one. Loneliness feels simultaneously permanent and fleeting; we know we haven’t always felt this way, and yet we can’t remember anything else. I touched my finger to the sharp blade of Lexa’s knife and wondered how I’d come to be on this side of loneliness and how long it would last. Finding the antidote to the poison that had robbed me of wherever I might call home was more urgent than ever.

The door opened softly and my head darted up. Relief spread through me when I saw it was Lexa, soft in her robe. For a second I thought I saw some sort of blue halo or aura around her, but as she stepped into the firelight, it disappeared. I was glad no harm had come to her.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said quietly.

I shook my head and looked down at her knife again, contemplating what I’d threatened to do with it minutes before. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. She’d acted nonchalant at all the things I’d told her I’d seen before, but she was masterful at concealing her true thoughts. Perhaps she did think I was crazy and had brought me here to commit me to some kind of sanitarium.

Before I could think of anything to say, Lexa looked down at my satchel where it lay spilled on the ground and bent to pick up the contents. As she touched them, putting my belongings back inside the leather pouch, each item seemed more precious.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“I went to see the apothecary,” she said, her voice low and soothing, just as it had been when she tried to calm Rameesha.

I looked up, hopeful.

“He doesn’t have the antidote,” she said. She paused, standing back up with a gentle, pitying look on her face. “I’m sorry.”

I felt myself grow heavier still, my muscles aching and tired. And yet the confirmation that she really did want to help me was reassuring. I felt I ought to apologize to her for being so angry earlier. I put her knife on the seat beside me.

“I’m sorry I was angry.”

Lexa kept her gaze down, giving a soft nod.

“I’m just… scared,” I said. “It’s hard not remembering anything about myself.”

“I imagine,” she said.

“Just now-- I woke up and the old woman I saw in the forest…” I gestured toward the satchel in Lexa’s hands, too embarrassed and disoriented to finish my sentence.

She took a slow breath, seeming fatigued but not surprised.

“No wonder you’re frightened,” she said. She set my satchel on the chair and sat on the sofa a foot away from me. She looked around the room, studying the gold light as it moved about the furniture.

She accepted that the woman had been there so readily, I was encouraged to ask questions.

“Is she real?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitating.

“Is she dangerous?”

“I’m not sure.”

I had so many questions, but the pain in my feet and the overwhelming fatigue that suddenly hit me prevented me from forming any I could ask her. As my eyes grew heavy, my gaze fell on her feet. She was wearing my shoes, but all the blood had been washed out of them and they looked clean and dry.

“You should sleep, Clarke,” she said, lifting a hand toward me but placing it on the couch between us before she could touch me. “We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

I nodded, feeling the room swim in my tired delirium. I almost lay down on the couch where she had been sleeping earlier, but she stood, offering me her hand as she led me over to the ladder. I followed, stumbling and hazy, and effortfully climbed up the ladder, feet aching on each rung.

Once I was at the top, I looked down, room spinning at the height.

“You can come up,” I said, hoping she would accept my offer as an addendum to my apology.

She gave a soft, sad smile. “I’m comfortable on the couch. Sleep well, Clarke.”

I heard her bolt the door and lie back on the couch, drawing the blanket over her.

I climbed onto the mattress, falling into the groove where I’d been asleep before, unconscious almost instantaneously.

I awoke later to blinding light that painted yellow and orange violently across my eyelids. The huge windows that spanned from floor to ceiling were letting in the brightest morning light I had ever seen, and I put a pillow over my face to block out the glare for a moment.

Lexa must have heard me stir.

“Good morning,” she called, lyrical and clear.

“Morning,” I croaked.

"It's so beautiful," she murmured. "You can see the entire kingdom."

I slowly lifted the pillow from my face and let my eyes adjust to the blinding glare before filling with happy relief. The giant window looked out on the castle gardens, and beyond that, I could see mountains and lakes and forests that seemed to stretch on forever. The storm had passed, and I felt rested. My feet only stung a little bit, and my muscles had mostly recovered. Nothing felt sinister or strange, other than the hazy memories I had of what had transpired in the middle of the night.

I rubbed my eyes and arched my back, stretching out bits of soreness where they clung to me. I rolled over and peered over the edge of the bed down at the floor.

Lexa was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a cup of tea in her hands, gazing out the window as though deep in thought.

She turned her head up to look at me. "How did you sleep?" she asked, smile indicating she herself had slept quite well.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Except for when our stuff almost got stolen."

I glanced back down to the floor where I'd confronted the old woman and saw that my bag was still on its chair where Lexa had placed it. That hadn’t been a hallucination, I didn’t think.

My stomach growled and I started climbing down the long ladder.

A knock came at the door. Lexa invited the knocker in, and a guard appeared and gave a stiff bow. “Her majesty invites you to dine with her promptly.”

Giving a polite dip of her head, Lexa said we would be ready shortly. The guard shut the door and Lexa picked her clothing off the chair where she’d laid it to dry. By the stiff way it hung when she lifted it, I could tell it was completely dry.

I averted my eyes as Lexa slid out of her robe and into clothing. When I went to put on my own, it took a long time; while she had one pair of pants and shirt and a few accessories to put on, I had a dozen different articles of clothing. First my bloomers and slip and stockings, then my tunic that went under my petticoat and skirt and blouse and bodice and apron. I had a small belt that matched my boots, and of course my cloak. Even though my clothing was cumbersome, I was glad it was warm and dry.

I put on my shoes, wincing as the material pushed against my blisters and cuts. The shoes were somehow dry and clean, which was better than they’d been the day before.

As we prepared to leave the room, I glanced at my satchel, unsure if we would be returning to the chamber after our meal. Always cautious, I shouldered my bag. Lexa gave me a knowing nod, sliding her sheathed sword across her back. We opened the door and stepped into the great stone hallway where a servant was waiting for us. Lexa pulled her hood up again.

We were ushered through a series of grand corridors lined with regal tapestries and paintings. Everything was silent and still. As we walked, I felt my stomach twisting. I was so hungry I could have eaten soggy bread.

We entered into a great hall with a large table in the center and high-backed chairs running along the sides. At the head of the table sat Xara, back straight and regal as she looked at the decadent spread before her. I felt my mouth water as I saw the steaming trays of every breakfast food imaginable; cakes and tarts and fruits and meats to feed a hundred hungry men. I felt my knees weaken at the prospect of being allowed to eat any of the dishes before us.

Xara gave us a cool smile.

“Good morning, Princess,” she said to me. “Did you sleep well?”

I gave a polite curtsy and said, “I did. Better than I have in… a long time. Thank you, your Highness.”

Her smile faded and she looked rather stoic for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

It was silent in the great hall for a moment before the Queen said cooly, “It seems you are not a match for my son. Guards, please show this imposter out.”

Hands seemed to appear out of nowhere and I was yanked out of the hall and dragged down a corridor, only to the brought out into the blinding sunlight and jabbed at with the staffs of the guards. I was shoved to the ground and I fell, scraping my knees through all the layers of my clothing.

“Get off the castle grounds!” a guard growled at me as I picked myself up. “You’re lucky she didn’t hang you!”

Lexa was pushed out the door after me, eyes wide as she saw me brushing myself off. She grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the gate, which was grinding closed before our eyes. She pulled me as fast as she could, and I stumbled and tripped, losing one of my shoes as we fell through to the other side of the gate just before it slammed closed. We toppled to the ground and felt the wind knocked out of our lungs.

I saw two small objects fly out of Lexa’s pocket, landing a few feet before us. One was a vial of something liquid and blue. The other was a tiny disc in the shape of a gear or sun. They lay on in the dirt for a moment, glinting in the light as she struggled to get up.

She lurched forward to grab the vial and the disc, tucking them into her shirt. She looked at me, fear flashing across her face. I lay defeated on the ground, not even attempting to get up or ask what she’d just concealed. My body was throbbing, my feet screaming, my knees stinging with new scrapes. We’d been thrown out unceremoniously, without food or explanation.

For the first time, Lexa made a noise a despair. I’d never seen her express herself in such a way; her steely, calm exterior had seemed unshakable.

She let out an exclamation I didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what I did wrong,” I said in dismay.

“You didn’t do anything _wrong_ ,” she said, though the bite in her voice made me doubt her sincerity. She was angry about something, and I wasn’t sure if it was me.

I pulled the skirt of my dress up, looking down at my bare foot. One of my blisters had popped and dirt was already sticking to it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, soft again as she looked down at it. “We can take turns wearing my shoes if you like.”

“I’ll be okay for now,” I lied, trying to stand. Even as I put weight on my bare foot, it screamed. I must have winced, because next thing I knew, she was crouched, untying her shoes.

“No,” I objected. “It’s silly for both of us to mess up our feet. I’ll just…”

I unshouldered my bag and took out my hunting knife. With it, I cut off a strip of the stiff material lining my skirt and fashioned a bandage shoe.

“That will hold for a little while.”

Relieved she didn’t have to surrender her shoes, Lexa nodded. I tried walking in my makeshift shoe, finding it barely better than being barefoot. I felt every pebble, every twig, and the mud made by the storm soon caked the bandage. We walked to the edge of the forest, eager to move away from the castle. Once we were obscured in the trees, Lexa became silent and brooding again.

I stepped on something sharp and hissed. Looking down to see a thorny twig snared in my bandage, I hopped to a tree and leaned against it, pulling the twig out of the muddy threads. As I leaned, my stomach twisted and groaned with hunger.

“I wish we had grabbed some food before we got thrown out,” I muttered.

Lexa sighed in commiseration. “She must have used some sort of revealing spell.”

I turned my head. Had she said _spell_?

“What do you mean?”

Her brow was set in consternation. “At least it’s not raining anymore.”

She was right; the morning was bright and sunny and the ground was damp. But she hadn’t answered my question.

“What do you mean _spell_?”

She pursed her lips, debating whether she wanted to tell me the truth. I squinted at her, daring her lie to me again. I knew she’d lied before.

The pain in my feet and knees pushed up through me, igniting a fire that was all too quick to dart out at her.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” I pushed. I jabbed a finger in the direction of the castle. “ _Nothing_ that just happened makes any sense, and you won’t tell me anything.”

She sighed, defeated. “She used some sort of… _net_ that reveals magic. That’s why she knew you weren’t royalty and why you lost your shoe.” She nodded toward my bandaged foot.

I stared at her. “ _Magic_ ,” I said coldly. It was a pitiful cover for whatever she was up to. “I may not remember anything, but I’m not stupid.”

She looked mildly stunned. “I don’t think you’re stupid. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s happening?”

She took a shaking, measured breath, eyes fluttering closed for moment.

“I used magic to manipulate the way people inside the castle saw us. The way saw _you_. I made myself as close to invisible as I could. Same as yesterday in the forest when those men grabbed you. I redirected their attention away from you long enough for us to slip away. This morning it didn’t work. Xara must have used a revealing spell.”

I stared at her, speechless. Did she really expect me to believe she had magical powers?

“So--” I stuttered. “You can do _magic_.”

She held my gaze, stoic. “Yes.”

I stared at her, waiting for her to look away or crack, signaling she was joking. She didn’t, and I felt myself start to laugh. It came out dry and clutching. She really did think I was a fool. She had some crazy idea that she could manipulate people around her, and I wasn’t falling for it. I may have been bordering on insane, hallucinating dancing girls and witches and floating lights, but none of that was her doing. It had probably been the poor lighting in the palace and the wet, bedraggled state we’d been in when we arrived that had made Xara confused about who we were.

“If you have powers, why don’t you just magic us to wherever you’re _really_ taking me? Or better yet, why don’t you conjure up some food? Or a goddamn shoe. Anything, really. Just blow my mind.”

Though she remained standing straight and tall, she looked hurt. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she responded. “Magic doesn’t work like that.”

I scoffed, flopping down on the ground, unraveling my useless bandage. “Great. Just _great_. Glad I got stuck with the only witch who can’t cast a useful spell.”

“I’m not a witch,” Lexa said, still sad. “And I don’t cast spells.”

“Whatever,” I said, refusing to look at her. “You can head off to wherever you’re going without me. I’ll just stay here and hope someone accidentally thinks I’m a princess again.”

She didn’t move for a moment. Then, disappearing behind a tree, I heard some rustling. She reemerged, holding an apple.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to me.

I eyed it, suspicious. Accepting apples from strangers who claimed to be magical was idiotic. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“Like I’m that dumb,” I muttered.

Lexa frowned, examining the apple. Then she seemed to realize. Rather than argue with me, she sat down against a tree across from me, drawing her knees to her chest. She rubbed the apple on her shirt, then bit into it, crunching. She ate half, contemplating, then looked up at me, sheepish, holding it up.

I sighed. Whatever was happening, I _was_ hungry. Nothing bad had happened to her as a result of eating the apple. I held up my hand, gesturing I would accept the other half.

Quickly, she had tossed the apple at me. I didn’t have time react before it fell in my hand, almost bouncing out before my fingers curled around it. Her aim had been nothing short of perfect. I frowned at it, confused, but didn’t want to engage in further conversation. Perhaps I was angry because I was hungry. I took giant bites of the apple, swallowing the sweet meat, feeling myself relax as my blood sugar started to rise. When I finished, I looked up at her, not ready to apologize out loud, but at least willing to make eye contact.

“Will you let me take you to a healer?” she asked quietly, nodding to my foot. “I know one not too far from here.”

I was too tired and confused to do anything but rub my face and sigh. After looking down at my bandaged foot, feeling the dull sting in my knees, I nodded.

She seemed relieved. She stood, staying stooped as she lifted toward me, offering me a hand as her body dragged mine up with its counterweight.

I brushed off the back of my skirt, taking a few steps into the forest. As I did, I felt something under my foot that was round and hard. I lifted my skirt to look at it.

It was a tiny green apple, bruised and battered.

I looked up and saw I had been sitting under a whole tree with tiny green apples growing in clusters along the branches. I let out a sigh of relief; she hadn’t conjured an apple at all. She’s plucked a ripe one out of the tree, presenting it as though she’d made it appear with whatever powers she wanted me to believe she had.

Magic wasn’t real. She was just an odd girl wandering around the forest.

Just like me.

Or at least that’s what I needed to believe at the time.


	5. Oracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa visit the healer and have an unexpected encounter with the Oracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for things to get weird? Good.
> 
> (Niylah makes an appearance in this chapter. In this 'verse she has no history with either girl. She just fit the part well.)
> 
> Huge shout-out to my beta fo lyfe youreterriblemuriel. She's been with me since almost the very start of my fanfic days. She makes everything better.

I wasn’t starving after the apple we’d shared, but I wasn’t full either. As I followed her back into the forest, I had the feeling of sinking back into something… what was it? Despair? No. It was more of a physical feeling. Drowning? No. Aside from the lake the night before and the few streams we’d stepped over in the forest, I had no memories of water to draw from. It was disorienting, to know something and not know how you know it.

I know water now. Last night I ran my hands through our bathtub, swirling it to even the temperature, dropping in some eucalyptus oil to soothe her headache brought on by too many hours reading in low light. I retrieved her from the chair she’d been stuck to for ages, taking her book from her gently, lifting her hand as she gave me a confused look. She looked like she’d been torn from somewhere else, as I’m sure I looked when she first met me. She followed me with the same blind faith I once followed her, and when she saw the steaming tub surrounded by candles, she landed back on earth from whatever faraway land she’d been taken to between pages. She smiled, and we slipped in together, wordless, floating with her head on my collarbone.

Violent beginnings do not always have violent ends.

The snapping of twigs beneath her feet as we plunged deeper into the forest seemed an echo of inner turmoil, a fire kindled by some deep hurt or anger inside her. My skepticism of her magical powers rendered her moody and aloof. She was so detached, I almost felt like a ghost trailing behind her as we walked deeper and deeper beneath the darkening tree canopy.

My single worn slipper and tattered bandage made no noise as we walked, though my feet screamed for relief and care. I said nothing, brow set in what probably looked like a scowl, biting the inside of my cheeks to keep from making any noise that indicated I was in pain. We had been walking several hours when we came to an enormous tree trunk. It was unlike any tree I’d ever seen. It spanned at least thirty feet wide at the base; too wide to see past from ten feet away, and it had tendrils of vines wrapped around it, twisting up to the branches.

She slowed, moving to walk around the tree. I looked down and saw the ground around the tree was more beaten down than the rest of the forest, the indentations of footprints pressed into the muddy soil. As I followed her around, I saw a shoe, tipped on its side as though it had dropped from the tree.

She bent and picked it up, examining it, then held it up to me. It was the same foot I was missing, and looked about my size.

“You conjure that, too?”

She stared at me, startled for a minute. A scowl crossed her face before I realized I’d gone too far.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it from her. I leaned down, starting to unwrap my bandage. I saw her cape swirl around her ankles in the corner of my eye as she turned and walked away. I cut off the muddiest part of my bandage and slid my foot into the boot, glad to have more of a barrier around at least some of my injuries. I stood up, surprised to see she wasn’t there.

“Lexa?”

She didn’t respond. 

I walked around the tree, wondering where she’d gone. 

“Lexa?”

An animal or bird in the tree above me took off, raining down a few leaves. Then everything was perfectly still.

Had I pushed her too far? Now that I had a shoe for each foot, had she abandoned me?

“Lexa!” I yelled, contracting my stomach muscles to project my voice as far as I could.

Something fluttered and shifted in the branches above me again, only this time a rope ladder unfurled, swinging before me, its bottommost rung inches off the ground.

“Climb up,” her disembodied voice beckoned me.

I touched the ladder, wanting to make sure it was real and not a figment of my addled mind. It was real and held weight as I tugged at it. I put my sturdy new boot on the bottom rung and shifted my weight onto it, clinging as it wavered off the ground.

Cautiously, I climbed up until I reached the branch where it was attached. It was a thick branch, wide enough to stand on, and I heaved myself up, looking about. A few feet from me was another rope ladder, this one tied to the branch I was sitting on to secure it. It wavered just enough that I could tell Lexa had just used it. Eager to catch up and ask why we were climbing into the trees, I grabbed it and climbed as fast as I could. When I reached the top I saw Lexa’s feet and the bottom of her cape on the branch above. I looked up at her glowering down at me. 

“Are we in a hurry to get somewhere?” I asked.

“I thought you’d be eager to see the healer.”

I scrambled up onto the branch, a bit out of breath. “I am,” I assured her. “Sorry, I’m just… having a hard time getting a handle on this place,” I said, taking stock of the tree limbs around us. They were still wide enough to walk on, but there was also a series of walkways built into them for easy passage from one to the other. The ladders leading up from this level of the tree were solid wood, and tucked near the trunk I saw a spiral staircase leading up.

Against my better judgment, I looked down at the ground below us. I was startled to see how high we were. I crouched, eager to hold onto the rough bark, steadying myself so I wouldn’t fall as fear zipped through me. There was so much I didn’t know about myself, including that I was afraid of heights. That bit of information presented itself at an inopportune time, as with most other things I was learning.

“What is this place?” I asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“It’s a village I’ve heard of for some time,” Lexa said. “Poets and musicians and scholars built a community in the trees. Healers, too.”

I let out an exerted sigh. “Cool. Sure, why not add gravity to the list of potential dangers in your living space.”

Lexa regarded me briefly before moving toward the spiral staircase, walking up quickly. I followed, trying to distract myself from my increasing fear over how high we were climbing. Within moments, a distraction appeared; around us I could see tiny, homespun cottages tucked in the corners of branches, secured against trunks. What little light seeped in from the sun dotted them golden, making the cottages feel calm and homey. I could see through tiny windows where women were cooking and baking, men cobbling and weaving, children playing and laughing. It seemed a whole village had hidden itself in tiny dwellings connected by ropes and bridges and ladders. The trees around us were teeming with life. It was breathtaking, and I soon forgot we were so far off the ground. 

We came upon a tiny cottage suspended between tree branches. It was shorter than houses on the ground, its door barely tall enough to step through without stooping. Its walls were determined by the trees around it rather than a square blueprint. On the door was a purple painted crescent moon. Despite being so high in the air, it felt sturdy and secure, as though even a mighty gale couldn’t knock it down from its perch. 

Lexa knocked and the door opened. The woman inside was slight and soft-spoken. She wore clothes as plain as mine, and her light hair was drawn back from her face with braids similar to Lexa’s. Her face was melancholy in the mouth and cheeks but lively in the eyes. She introduced herself as Niylah and invited us inside. 

We ducked into the treetop cottage without hesitation, Lexa taking down her hood as we shut the door behind us. At this point I was so beyond wonder at the strangeness that seemed to occur every hour or so, I didn't find the inside of the cottage unusual or remarkable. I thought little of the great drop under the floorboards, nor did I wonder how the contents of the cottage came to be up in the trees. It simply existed, as the bloody ballroom had existed, as Rameesha's cottage had existed, as Lexa existed. Everything around me was ordinary, except that it wasn't. 

Back then I had no idea how extraordinary Lexa is.

Niylah offered us seats on little round stools around the table, which was shorter and smaller than any table I’d seen, yet took up half the room. The house had the sense of having been shrunken, and I felt gangly and overstuffed inside it.

Lexa and Niylah exchanged a greeting with their hands and eyes, and I wondered what it meant. But my attention was diverted by the scent of something coming from the miniature pot-belly stove. 

Niylah turned to me with her somber mouth and smiling eyes. "Are you hungry?"

I glanced at Lexa, then gave a nod. 

Niylah moved to the stove and served up two bowls of steaming, fragrant stew. She set one before each of us, handing us wooden spoons before sitting opposite us, crammed into the corner of the room against a shelf stuffed with books and vials and gems and several bird nests.

"How can I help you?" she asked, smiling at me. Her eyes were still lively, but her mouth was calm. Her welcome was implied, and I felt myself relax for the first time since I'd woken in the giant strange bed so many hours ago.

"Clarke’s feet are injured," Lexa said.

Niylah's smile fell and she stood, coming around the table. I almost didn't want to stop eating long enough for her to look at my feet. Niylah knelt, sliding my slipper off my throbbing left foot, her mouth pouting even though she didn't make eye contact. She took the boot Lexa had found off my right foot, drawing in a breath when she saw the remnants of the bandage and the sorry state of my foot. 

"Poor thing," she said almost in a whisper. "Yes, I have something for that."

She rose and went to a cabinet adorned with a wreath of dried flowers and herbs. She opened the cabinet and peered inside, lifting a few bottles before selecting a jar and closing the cabinet. She heated a kettle and filled a bowl with the water, placing it at my feet, lifting each one gently. I winced at the feel of the water as it picked apart my blisters and seeped between my bloody toes. As my feet came to rest in the bottom of the bowl, Niylah said something soothing I couldn't quite catch.

She took a cloth and gently cleaned each of my feet. Had they not been so raw and painful, I might have enjoyed it, but I was relieved when she lifted each foot out, placing it on a towel. She took the bowl outside and I heard the swish of water through tree branches before she came back inside and knelt again, dipping her fingers into the jar, rubbing a salve over my feet. I felt the pain slowly fade as she caressed each one, then bandaged my feet with clean cloth. Once she was done, she looked up at Lexa with a calm smile. "That should do it," she said. "So, Clarke," she said, smiling as she changed the subject. "Where are you from?"

I glanced at Lexa, hoping she would prompt me on what to say. She'd advised me not to tell people about the damnumflos, but she seemed to trust Niylah differently than other people. Certainly more than anyone in the palace, and perhaps more than Sairah and Rameesha. In response to my silent question, she swallowed and gave a nod of permission.

"I, um. I don't know," I said, anxious to say it out loud for the first time in a few days. "I was poisoned."

Niylah's face fell in a look of earnest compassion. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. She looked at Lexa. "Do you know how?"

"I suspect damnumflos," Lexa said. "I found her in the woods covered in bruises."

“When?"

I tried to count the days in my head, but the confusion of the bloody ballroom and the midnight awakenings I'd had every night had addled my sense of time.

"Three days ago," Lexa said. "Her bruises are healing, but none of her memories have come back."

Niylah clucked in sympathy. "Good thing you came. I have an antidote that will work if taken any time within a fortnight."

I felt my whole body lift and surge with hope. Niylah had the antidote! The strangeness of the tree village and the tininess of the cottage dropped away. My faith in Lexa and her intentions was restored. No matter what crazy beliefs she had about magic, she was kind. She'd told me the truth about some things, though I knew she'd lied about others.

Everyone is entitled to their secrets, I suppose. Especially her.

I thought to the three gold pieces in my bag. "How much is it?”

Niylah glanced at Lexa. "No charge.” 

I squinted at her, suspicion creeping back into my consciousness. "Why would you do that?"

"Someone once helped me when I had nothing to give in return."

It was quiet for a moment and I watched them look at each other and avoid each other at the same time.

"Do you two know each other?" I asked, trying not to let my suspicion overtake me. 

"Not personally," Niylah said. "She is a kindred spirit."

Frustrated with the strange manner of speaking Lexa and Niylah shared, I glanced around the room. "I can pay you," I said. 

Niylah eyed me up and down. "What have you got to trade?"

I reached into my bag, sorting through my meager belongings. "I have three gold pieces... an old journal and a quill... a flint..." I didn't mention the knife. It seemed best to keep that to myself. 

Niylah tilted her chin up. "What's that around your neck?" 

My hand flew the chain of the compass Rameesha had given me. "Oh, yeah," I said. "I have this. But it's broken." I pulled the compass out of my dress and over my head, wincing as it caught in my hair. I held it toward Niylah. 

Niylah held out her palm, cradling the round face of the compass in her palm. She held it closer to her face before her eyebrows danced up. "It's beautiful," she said. "I haven't seen one like this in a long time."

I shrugged, not knowing what made this compass special other than the ruby on the needle. "I'm happy to trade."

Niylah's eyes flashed to Lexa and she let out a small laugh. "No, no. You must keep it. I'm happy to give you the antidote in exchange for your good company." She stood and walked to another cabinet -- the contents of the room seemed to multiply every time I looked around -- and retrieved a small brown bottle with a cork stopper. To Lexa she said, "You're familiar?"

Lexa nodded and accepted the bottle. 

Niylah moved to put another kettle on the stove. "We'll have tea to wash it down," she smiled. 

"Thank you," I said, realizing I hadn't expressed any gratitude since we'd sat down. 

"Yes, thank you," Lexa echoed. 

When the kettle boiled, Niylah poured three teacups and placed them in front of us. 

"Thank you," I said, looking down at the china before me. 

Lexa held the vial in her hand, reaching over to my teacup. I wanted to watch the antidote swirl into the brown of my tea, but found myself looking up at Niylah again. "Do you know where I can get some new shoes?"

"Of course," Niylah said. 

She stood once again, stooping over a bench by the door that I hadn't noticed when we'd entered. She pulled out a pair of sturdy boots almost exactly like the ones I'd been wearing before the princesses had taken mine and given my the useless gold slippers. This pair was darker, softer leather though, and had a small crescent moon pressed into the side. She placed them before me along with a pair of soft woolen socks. I put the socks on and slid my lightly bandaged feet inside. They fit perfectly. The leather seemed to soothe the ache and burn of my wounds. 

"Perfect," I said, smiling. "How much?"

"One gold piece.”

I reached into my bag, handing her one gold piece, then turned back to the table. Lexa was stirring my tea, staring down into it.

I forgot my newly comfortable feet and looked down, squinting to see if there was anything different about the clear brown liquid. It looked normal to me. 

"So... I just drink it?" I asked, glancing between Lexa and Niylah.

"Mhm," Niylah said with another soothing smile. After being around Lexa with her stoic, unsmiling face for three days, Niylah's smile was almost disarming. I trusted her. 

I lifted the teacup to my lips, sniffing to see if I smelled anything strange. I smelled only mint and licorice. I took a first tentative sip, feeling my throat warm as it slid down. I licked my lips, waiting.

Nothing happened.

"It can take a bit of time," Niylah said. "Don't worry." 

I nodded and sipped again. When nothing happened after several long moments, Lexa lifted her own cup to her lips. She turned to Niylah, a soft, pleasant expression on her face.

"How is the community doing lately?" she asked.

Niylah turned to her and held her smile. "Quite well."

They continued talking about the tree village as I sipped, closing my eyes between each one to see if any information sprouted in my mind. The licorice soothed my throat and belly, but other than that, I felt nothing. 

I felt myself growing tired. Not dramatically so; simply weary and worn from so much traveling on foot, running from danger, and climbing into the tree canopy. I didn't know what I'd been accustomed to, but I was almost certain I'd never been so active.

After half an hour, Niylah turned to me. "Still nothing?" she asked. 

I shook my head. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I felt heavier than I'd felt under my soaked-through wool coat the night before. 

I was never going to remember. 

"That's strange," Niylah said, a frown creasing between her brows. She turned to Lexa. "You're certain it's damnumflos?"

Lexa bowed her head in a nod. 

"Hmm..." Niylah said. "Perhaps you ought to see the Oracle."

"The Oracle?" I asked, skeptical. The more time I spent in this land, the more I was confused about its people and what they believed.

"What does he do?"

"She can see spirits and energies. She has ways of uncovering spiritual maladies."

I gave Lexa a look. I had been skeptical enough about magic, and the concept of spiritual maladies made me even more doubtful.

"Maybe it’s just a head injury," I said with a shrug. I lifted my finger to my forehead, feeling the cut that was healing well. "I did get clocked pretty good."

Niylah pursed her lips and squinted at me, then decided not to argue. "Perhaps," she said, though it sounded more disappointed than anything.

I looked to Lexa. 

"It's worth an inquiry," she said.

I shrugged, turning back to my empty teacup and bowl. I was no longer hungry, yet I ached for something. I could hardly sit still. 

"I'm sure she'd see you now," Niylah said. "In peacetime she's quite easy to engage with."

Lexa seemed to take this as a cue. She stood, thanking Niylah for her assistance, giving a reverent bow of her head that Niylah returned. They shook hands and seemed to exchange some kind of look or understanding. If I'd believed it possible, I would have thought they were conversing silently. 

Something about that exchange irked me. 

I glanced between them, wondering if they had some connection I didn't understand. I wondered if Niylah believed in whatever "magic" Lexa claimed to have, and if they believed something about healing that didn’t make any medical sense. Had I been too hopeful about the supposed healer Lexa brought me to? Suddenly the strange, quiet calm of the tree village made me suspicious. I felt trapped.

And yet what choice did I have? If I struck out on my own, I would surely die. I hated being at anyone's mercy, hated having to hobble through the woods the way I had been for too many days now. But most of all I hated the great void that existed where my life had once been, the emptiness of people and places and things I should remember. What was in the cabinets of my life? Who would wash my feet if not Niylah? Who did I share stew with when I was hungry? I was such a stranger to myself.

Niylah broke their connection and turned to me. "The Oracle is ten flights up," she said with an encouraging smile. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to meet you."

I extended my hand, polite despite my suspicion. "Thank you.”

Niylah looked down at my hand, taking it gently and shaking it as though such a practice were strange to her. "Very nice to meet you, Clarke. I wish you well on your journey."

Lexa and I ducked out of the cottage, breathing in the earthy forest air again. I followed her to a ladder hammered into the trunk, climbing up after her. 

I was quickly breathing heavily as we climbed higher and higher into the trees. I looked at the little houses and cottages suspended between branches around us. Though the proportions still felt odd, it was comforting to see people living in peace and harmony, unafraid for their lives. The light was beginning to fade, and the scenes from inside the tiny treetop houses glowed gold and yellow with candlelight. I wondered if anyone here would have room to shelter us for the night if we decided to stay. 

I was about to ask Lexa where we might seek lodging when she reached the topmost layer of the trees. She waited for me to climb up through a hole in a wooden platform, only to be awestruck by what I saw before me. It was unbelievable that such a residence could exist so high above ground. Before us was a full-sized house made of stone and mortar, with drape-filled windows and cobblestones leading up to the stoop. 

It was impossible, right?

And yet so was the bloody ballroom. And the old woman in the forest. And anyone thinking I was royal.

Was anything impossible? Or was my mind too constricted to believe the things I saw and felt?

Sometimes – even today – I feel Lexa, in all her tenderness, is an impossibility too, though I know without a doubt she isn’t.

I followed her up the steps and waited as she knocked. Right away, the door swung open and a girl in a sparkling emerald dress smiled at us.

"Welcome!" she said, opening the door wide. "We're glad you're finally here."

Surprised, I hovered on the doorstep a moment as Lexa stepped inside.

The girl in the emerald dress gave me an encouraging smile. "Come in," she said. "You must be tired."

I took a hesitant step in.

"Let me take your cloak," she offered, reaching to untie it from my neck.

But I held my hands up protectively. "No!" Realizing I had overreacted, I said, "No, thank you. I'm still chilly from the climb."

"Of course," the girl said. "Would you like some tea?”

"Y - no, thank you," I said. I felt disoriented again.

"Very well. The Oracle is ready for you now," she said. 

Confused as to how the Oracle had known we were coming, I glanced at Lexa. She didn’t seem surprised. The girl in the green dress gave me a funny smile.

"You came to see the Oracle, right?" she asked, as though anything other than an affirmative answer would be amusing.

I nodded, though not without a great deal of confusion. How had the Oracle known we were coming? What was an Oracle in the first place? Did they really see the future?

I glanced at Lexa for guidance, but her face was as stoic as ever.

"This way," the girl in the green dress said. 

On sore legs – the climb had been more strenuous than I expected – we followed the girl down a stone corridor. At the end of the hall appeared to be a solid wall, but the girl walked toward it. When she was but a foot in front of it, she pressed her left palm flat to a square stone and waited. After a moment, the wall shifted, making a great scraping noise as it slid back and opened up another stretch of hallway that disappeared into darkness.

I didn't like the thought of walking into a dark corridor, even with Lexa at my side. But I swallowed and walked on, feeling there was no other option.

My heart began to pound as we were enveloped in darkness. Finally I grew so nervous, I said, "Might we have a bit of light?"

The girl in the green dress said, "Of course!" and snapped her fingers.

Torches flared around us, bathing the long hallway in a flickering, somber gold light. My steps grew more sure as I could see Lexa next to me.

But as soon as I got my bearings in the corridor, I started seeing things I wished I couldn't see.

There were strange paintings lining the walls: paintings of naked women with dead animals and injured men at their feet, paintings of demons holding goblets of fruit and wine, paintings of faces so odd and otherworldly that it made my stomach churn. Next to one painting I spied a braid of hair tacked into the wall, the ribbon holding the plait together still bright pink, as though it had recently been snatched from a schoolgirl's head without ceremony. A white cowhide was stretched and dried over one section of wall, an arrow wound making a striking mar in the center. Placed randomly along the walls were little cases containing large, brightly-colored insects, stuck to their displays with pins, the scratches underneath unreadable.

What kind of Oracle kept such bizarre and frightful collection in her house? Surely not a benevolent one. I was about to say that I needed to leave when the girl in the green dress stopped in front of an unmarked door that was painted bright red.

"Here we are," she said with a too-calm smile. "The Oracle is ready for you. Be sure to look directly at her and speak clearly."

Hidden behind the drapery of my cloak, I reached for Lexa’s hand. It was the only reassuring thing around. Yet I couldn’t quite find it.

I didn't know what to expect on the other side of the door. Perhaps a cauldron bubbling over a great fire, oddly shaped mirrors, shelves with vials and vials of potions lining the walls. I expected the Oracle to be a crone, body withered and hair white to match her unseeing eyes, voice creaky like the old woman in the forest.

But instead we found a room unlike the corridor outside it entirely. It was painted dark blue like a night sky, and it was illuminated by a large glass ball hanging in the center that glowed silver like the moon. Around the walls tiny lights shimmered like thousands of stars. When I peered closer, I saw that they weren't stars, but reflections glinting off fragments of mirrors. The ceiling was perhaps the most beautiful part of all; made of six large triangles of glass welded together in a gold frame, the night sky with the real moon and stars shone down, undimmed by the fake moon glowing in the center. The real moon and the false moon were reflections of each other rather than competitors. There was no furniture in the room aside from two velvet couches facing each other, both deep blue with silver moulding. 

I looked first at Lexa to decide if I should sit, then back to the doorway to ask the girl in the green dress.

But the door was closed and the girl was gone.

That was odd. I hadn't heard the door close.

Concerned, I looked at Lexa again, perplexed. But as soon as I did, I noticed someone else in the room. Standing in front of the couches where I'd been looking only a moment before was a tall, beautiful woman with waist-length blonde hair that shone almost silver in the light. She had a long neck accentuated by a gleaming silver chain that delved between her breasts, a pendant of a moon and sun colliding dangling at the end. Her gown was silver-blue and flowed to the ground, concealing her feet, sleeves draping almost to meet it. She had a serene smile on her face and a silver band crowning her head.

Startled by the sudden appearance of the beautiful young woman, I gasped. I was dumbstruck. I just stood, looking at the face of the Oracle.

She was young, not much older than Lexa and I. She had clear, smooth skin like Lexa, but she was alarmingly pale, her cheeks barely tinged with pink. Her hair was as straight as arrows, fine and silky as it draped over her shoulders and breasts, hanging to her waist. It seemed a curtain of calm that hung around her. Her eyes, a mystic sea foam green, seemed to bore right through me. That, above the strangeness of the room, unnerved me most.

I began to suspect my mind was creating illusions again. Perhaps the antidote Niylah had given me was starting to take effect, and I was hallucinating as the toxins of the damnumflos left my body.

But then the Oracle spoke and I was put at ease. I didn’t think she was a hallucination; usually I imagined frightening things, and everything about the Oracle was calm.

“Welcome, Clarke,” the Oracle said. Her voice was musical and light and seemed to come from different directions, as though reflecting off the mirror fragments that peppered the walls. "I’m glad you found me."

She smiled, and beyond her pink lips I could see a row of perfect, china-white teeth.

"Th-Thank you," I said, giving an awkward curtsy as I tried to imitate what I'd seen Lexa do on occasion.

The Oracle gave me an amused, appreciative smile in return.

"You’ve had quite the journey. Protecting the girl from the wolf, surviving the dancing girls… And Xara didn’t give you an easy time, did she?"

I didn't know what to think of that. How did the Oracle know about those things?

Smiling as though she knew she was frightening me, the Oracle held out a graceful, pale, and perfectly manicured hand, gesturing toward the couch behind Lexa and I.

"Don't be alarmed," she said. "From up here, you can see just about everything with a good telescope. Won't you have a seat?"

Relieved that there was a scientific explanation for the Oracle's knowledge of them, I relaxed. 

Obedient under her gaze, we sank down into the midnight blue velvet.

The Oracle looked up at the pale reflection of the moon and gave a peaceful smile. She delighted in it, taking a deep breath and sighing, content with her surroundings.

She looked at us expectantly. "So?"

A moment of silence hung in the air and I didn't know what to say. I had no idea how to begin talking to an Oracle or why I was even here. I didn’t even believe in magic, for the most part.

"Forgive me, your Highness," I began.

"Your Holiness," the Oracle said, smile faltering for a moment.

"Your Holiness," I corrected. "I've never been to an Oracle before."

"Most people haven't," the Oracle said with a playful wink. "It's kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing."

Although the wink was reassuring, I now felt even more pressure to know what I was doing. I had one chance to get some answers about why I was here, and I didn't want to mess it up.

“You’ve come seeking information about your maladies,” the Oracle said.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been poisoned. Three days ago-”

The Oracle held up a graceful, commanding hand. “I know.”

“Oh-” I stammered. “Well… Do I ask questions? Or do you just tell me what I need to know?”

"You can ask questions within reason," the Oracle said. "I can't locate buried treasure or tell you which day your true love will appear or any petty nonsense like that. But almost anything else."

I nodded, chewing my lip as I pondered which of my current problems was the most urgent.

Above all, I wanted to know who I was and how I'd gotten there. I wanted to know how to get home. So I started with that.

"How can I get home?" I asked.

The Oracle gave me a weary, apologetic smile. "You already have the solution, Clarke."

Although I was confused by the Oracle's words, I nodded as though she had said something wise. Realizing I hadn't even told the Oracle my name, I was further unnerved. How could anyone know things they hadn't been told?

I looked at Lexa, wondering if she was as alarmed as I was. Had she known the nature of this woman's powers? But she was only staring in rapt attention, entranced by the Oracle’s beauty.

I cleared my throat. I figured since I was in a community that believed in things like spiritual illnesses, I should respect that.

“Niylah mentioned something about a– a spiritual malady?” I started. “I’ve lost my memory, and she thought that might be the case.” I paused. “Is it?”

The Oracle tilted her head, unblinking as she studied me. “Your spirit has no illness I can detect,” she said. 

Whatever that meant, it was mildly reassuring. 

“So how do I get my memory back?”

The Oracle gave a perplexed frown that barely creased her forehead. “Like I said, you already have the solution.”

“What does that mean?”

The Oracle stiffened. “Three questions only. Please leave your payment on the seat."

I was startled, but realized I shouldn't be. Of course the Oracle would want payment. She was probably a charlatan, putting on an act and giving hollow advice wrapped in strange words to swindle people out of their money. I felt all my hope crumble.

I thought of the two gold pieces I had left and couldn’t bear the thought of giving them up for nothing. 

“I don’t have any money," I said regretfully.

The Oracle laughed, though it was low and threatening. “I don’t accept money. I desire something more valuable.” Her eyes glinted.

“Like what?”

“I think you know.”

I didn't have anything other than a few household objects and the compass from Rameesha. I wasn't about to offer any of those things.

"I have nothing to pay you with," I said, my voice meek and apologetic. "I didn't know."

The Oracle stared at me, her gaze icy and accusing. "What did you think you'd been summoned for?" the Oracle asked, rising from her seat, looming tall over me. I grew more afraid. Beyond her menacing stance, the Oracle's voice seemed to echo beyond the confines of the room, its timbre deeper and more ominous.

I looked at Lexa, who was frozen beside me, eyes wide and blank in alarm.

"What do you think an Oracle does?" the Oracle boomed. "Give advice out of the goodness of her heart?"

I shrunk down further still. "I didn't know!" I pleaded. “I just climbed up a strange tree and was told to come see you."

"Because I called you here!" 

I was flustered and unsure what to do. I looked at Lexa, who was paralyzed next to me, eyes locked on the moon floating above the couches as though in a trance.

I nudged her and she didn't move.

Worried that she was under some kind of spell, I looked back at the Oracle, whose eyes were glowing silver now, piercing me as she scowled.

Desperate, I opened my satchel and took out the flint. "This is all I have," I said, holding it out with one hand as I rooted through the rest of the contents with my other hand. I felt the handle of the knife, heavy in the bottom of my satchel, and wondered if it would be wise to grab it. Would the Oracle know if I did? How much did the Oracle know about anything?

The Oracle's glare grew stronger and she stepped closer, towering over me. Lexa remained motionless beside me, staring.

Then, in a swift motion, the Oracle's hand cut through the air and took Lexa’s sword from where it was sheathed on her back. In the same movement, I saw a flash of the blade and looked over to see one of Lexa's braids had been chopped off.

I gasped and looked back up at the Oracle, wondering how she'd moved so quickly as to take Lexa’s sword and chop off Lexa's braid in the same motion.

But as my gaze flew from Lexa to the Oracle, the Oracle darted to the side of the room and disappeared through a wall.

I held my hands to my face. What had just happened?

Was I imagining it all, as I’d imagined so many things recently?

I sat there trembling as the air in the room grew still from the Oracle’s swift exit. Once it did, Lexa blinked, and then was able to tear her gaze away from the strange moon above us. She reached for my arm and gasped.

"What happened?" she asked, as though she was as frightened as I.

"I don't know!" I whispered. "She disappeared!"

Lexa looked around, brow furrowing. "Who?"

"The Oracle."

“Who?"

My eyes went wide. Did Lexa not remember what had just transpired? Had her mind been wiped clean like mine?

"The Oracle. She was just here-" I turned and pointed to the stone wall into which the Oracle had just disappeared.

Lexa frowned. 

I shook my head. "Oh, god,” I groaned. I put my head in my hands in despair. “I’m going crazy, aren’t I?"

Lexa bit her lip and looked around. She looked down at her hair, noticing the jagged piece. "Is the Oracle the one who took my braid?”

I lifted my head. So some of it had been real. I nodded. “She took your sword too.”

Lexa looked distraught. She stood, looking down at herself, checking that she had her knife. Her hand darted over her pockets, checking for whatever she kept hidden there. "We should leave," she said. 

I nodded and stood, walking over to where we'd entered the room. But all I found there was a tapestry of a unicorn sitting in a field of poppies.

Confused, I lifted the tapestry.

All that was there was a stone wall.

Perhaps I was disoriented and remembered where we'd entered incorrectly. I scanned the rest of walls and lifted every tapestry, trying to find the door. But after circling the room two times, I hadn't found anything leading out. My fear surged again, threatening to overtake me. 

I spun into a panic, panting. “How the hell do we get out?” I asked, half rhetorically, half to Lexa.

Lexa stayed alarmingly calm, though I still sensed urgency from her. "It's okay," she said, her words even quieter in an effort to soothe me.

"How is it okay?" I demanded. “We’re trapped in a creepy house in the trees with no way to get out!”

Lexa didn’t respond, only reached into her shirt, pulling out the vial of moon-blue potion. “With this.”

I shook my head, wondering how Lexa could believe that a vial of strange potion could rescue us. 

“What is that?” I asked. From the strange blue light it was casting into the room I knew it had been what I’d seen the night before in the castle as I tried to fall asleep.

“Liquid Light,” she said, tapping her finger on top of the vial. “Sairah gave it to me.”

"How can we be sure its safe?" I said, suspicious of anything supposedly magical. 

She gave a cool shrug. "Only one way to find out."

She turned around and stooped to push the couches off the carpet. Once she had cleared the center of the room, she gave a satisfied bob of her head. Then, standing in the center of the carpet, she uncorked the vial and poured a single drop out.

At first nothing happened. I held my breath, hoping my imagination wouldn’t start to warp things around me again. Then I saw that the illuminated globe in the center of the room slowly sinking toward the carpet.

She lifted her arm to receive it as it sank and eventually came to rest in her hand.

When she held the moon in her hand, she smiled serenely. It was a rare smile that surprised me then. 

These days, it’s the only smile I ever see.

"It's working," she whispered.

I watched in awe as she curled her fingers against the globe for a moment before gently pushing her palm up toward the ceiling. Following her silent command, the globe rose up into the air like a balloon toward the moulding of the skylight. I anticipated a screeching or shattering when they collided, but instead, I watched as the skylight dissolved before my eyes, raining down into the room like silent sparks, leaving open air above us.

A calm, cool breeze swept through the room, clearing out half the panic and eeriness of my exchange with the Oracle. I was mesmerized by the sight before me. 

But then I felt the floor start to vibrate. I yelped, worried the walls of the room would collapse or an earthquake would start or we would be flung against the stone walls and shackled by invisible restraints. In this house – this entire kingdom, actually – nothing could be certain.

I looked down and saw the carpet that Lexa was standing on was glowing around the edges, the tassels on the edges fluttering as though a fan were blowing underneath. Then I saw the carpet rise from the ground an inch, lifting her in the air, not quite stiff, but not flimsy like its threads would suggest.

I panicked. What was my mind creating now? 

"Lexa!" I screamed, pointing to the carpet that had now risen a foot into the air. I lifted my hands to my face in horror.

But Lexa only sat down on the carpet. "Get on," she said, beckoning with her hand.

I shook my head, not trusting the carpet to hold me up.

Lexa's beckoning grew more insistent. "Get on!"

I shook my head again.

But Lexa grew adamant. "Clarke, get on!" she yelled. "Now!"

Something about her voice was so commanding, I stepped toward it. I knew I only had a moment to make my decision.

Only the thought of being separated from her prompted me to leap up on to the carpet and crouch on my knees, huddled next to her in fear.

“Get down!" she said, putting her hand on my shoulder to push me down as the carpet lifted higher and higher. 

I didn’t like the thought of any amount of movement I couldn’t control so high above the ground, but I was too afraid. I clung to Lexa and watched as we rose above the room, lifting into the sky and rising out of the trees. We accelerated higher and higher, the breeze ruffling our hair and the carpet beneath us, reminding me how fragile the carpet actually was. The flimsy material was the only thing protecting us from hurtling down through the trees to the ground. I didn’t want to think about how long the fall would be, yet my mind tormenting me with the image.

And when I felt we had come to a stand still in the air, Lexa said sharply, "Hang on!"

We swooped down, air harsh in our hair and on our faces, plunging through the night toward an unknown destination.

The tassels on the corners of the he carpet spun wildly, threatening to fall off as the carpet made great undulations through the air. She squinted against the wind, peering over the edge of the carpet as we soared over hills and valleys, farms and villages, diving up and down through the clouds, but I closed my eyes and buried my head between my arms, face against the flapping carpet, hiding as best I could.

This was my worst hallucination yet. I had no idea what was actually happening. I could feel her next to me, feel the wind tearing through us, but I had no way of knowing if it was real. 

If it was, I was certain we would both die as the carpet crashed into a tree or cliff or dove into the forest below us. As though to confirm my fears, I heard bombs going off in the distance. I gripped the carpet and tried not to cry. All I wanted to do was to go home, wherever that was.

"Clarke, look!" she cried, nudging me.  
I looked up hesitantly for a moment, almost blinded by the wind. I glimpsed a colorful burst as it fanned out and then fell toward the ground. As the sparks fell, I saw they were reflected in the ground below.

There were fireworks being set off over water.

We were flying over the ocean. Miles and miles and miles of vast, endless water.

I may not have known much about who I was, but I knew I couldn't swim. My nerves tripled and I clung to the carpet with all my strength. I whimpered, hoping the wind drowned the sound out. The intensity of my fear of heights surprised even me. If the wind hadn’t been whipping every bit of moisture from my lips and eyes, I would have been crying.

Lexa pretended not to notice. Later she told me she knew.

"Let us see if that ship will let us land there,” she said

"Ship?" 

"Right there," Lexa said, nodding toward the water. "With the purple sails."

I looked down and saw a ship with three tall masts and eggplant purple sails in the distance. It was majestic, but something about it made me uneasy. As I squinted to see better, the carpet beneath me took a sudden dive and I shrieked, burying my face again. I was certain the carpet would crash into the water and bring about our watery deaths. A few more fireworks went off, and I prayed we wouldn't get hit with stray sparks and burn before we drowned. 

As the carpet took a nosedive toward the water, I held my head between my hands and screamed, hoping I would wake up from the nightmare any minute. 

But I didn’t.

We plummeted toward the water for what felt like hours, until I realized I could no longer feel the wind tearing at my hair or making the carpet vibrate beneath me. Everything was still. The only sounds were the creaking of wood and the faint lapping of waves below.

Hesitantly, I lifted my head. We had survived the landing.

But to my horror, we were now surrounded by twenty pirates, swords all drawn as they scowled down at us.


	6. Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa are taken captive by a band of pirates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mad props to my beta youreterriblemuriel, who points out a lot of things that don't make sense before I post them on here.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr for more hysterical fangirling.

 

I turned to Lexa, who had her chin held high as she knelt, hands up in surrender. I glanced up to see a small black flag with a skull and crossbones on it waving above the purple sails. I gulped and raised my hands like Lexa.

We hadn't plummeted to our immediate death, but our death was inevitable. Of course we had landed on a pirate ship.

I looked around at our captors, taking in their tough expressions, their rough, leathery outfits and worn belts and sword sheaths. Their swords and knives were drawn, and I felt my pulse throbbing perilously in my bare, exposed neck. I knew my throat could be slit in seconds.

A gruff female voice called out, “Have you any treasure?”

"No," Lexa said. 

"No treasure?" a woman's voice called out as she jabbed her sword toward me.

"No treasure," I repeated. "We just needed somewhere to land."

A tall woman with wild red hair and shiny, knee-high boots sheathed her sword and began strutting around the carpet, sizing up the women still seated on it. "Where'd you get this carpet?" she asked, flicking at it with the tip of her boot.

"We stole it," Lexa said. 

The redhead smirked. "Stole it, huh?"

“From the Oracle.”

I thought it was unwise for Lexa to talk about our time in the Oracle’s lair, but Lexa seemed confident in what she was doing. 

"Did you steal anything else?" the redhead asked.

“No.”

The redhead looked around at the rest of the crew. As I took them in, I realized every single one was a woman.

It was almost as strange as the fact that we had just flown on a carpet through the air from a house in the trees.

"Ladies, it seems we have two clever new passengers." She grinned and turned back to us. "I'm Captain Striker Jenny, and you're sailing on the _Good Contessa’s Promise_. Welcome aboard."

Relieved the captain of the ship seemed to be hospitable, I felt my body relax an inch. 

"Where is the ship sailing?" 

Striker Jenny grinned and looked around at her crew. "Where are we sailing, ladies?"

The pirates laughed and giggled, looking quite wicked.

Striker Jenny turned back to us. "We never know where the wind will take us, but you’re in for a voyage. Petunia, take them below!" she bellowed to a particularly gruff girl wearing bloomers and a leather vest over her blouse. She had an impressive curved sword, and her black leather boots clomped along the planks of the deck. 

Petunia heaved us up by the elbows and dragged us toward a small hutch on deck which contained a steep, narrow staircase.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, I was afraid for my life.

Lexa did not seem quite as concerned, though her mouth was drawn tight.

Petunia marched us down a long, dank corridor lit by only a few oil lamps, then stopped in front of a door with a heart burnt into it. "Here y'go. Yer quarters."

Before we knew it, we were thrust into the room and sealed inside as the scraping of a key in the lock told us that we were captives in the room. I felt my stomach twist again, wondering what horrors awaited us once we were brought up on deck again. Would we be branded? Forced to walk the plank? Why would a band of female pirates hold us captive? 

"We'll come getcha for dinner and dancing," Petunia growled through the door. 

It sounded as though we were being held captive, though dinner and dancing sounded more generous than that. Everything that had happened in the last hour made no sense.

Lexa walked around the room, examining things.

I stood by the door, waiting for explanation. She didn’t offer any.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

She looked up, curious.

“How did you land us on the ship?”

“I told you,” Lexa said.

I swallowed. “Magic.”

She bowed her head.

I looked around, desperate for another explanation.

“What was in that bottle? The blue stuff?”

Lexa glanced at the door behind me, then reached into her shirt and took out the vial. It cast a pale blue glow about the room that both calmed and irritated me. 

“Liquid Light,” she said. “As rare as it is powerful.”

I squinted at it, suspicious.

Her face fell. “You still don’t believe.”

I sighed. I was so exhausted by the rapid overturning of each misshapen encounter I’d had over the last three days, I didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems unlikely.”

“Many things are unlikely, Clarke,” she said calmly. “Like being rescued from a fate like yours in a forest as dangerous as the one you were in.”

Her voice was steady and held no hint of malice, but it felt like she was mocking me.

“You were there too,” I said.

“So I was,” she said. I saw a twitch of a smile on her face, and a new idea came to my mind.

“Are you… are you taking me somewhere?” I asked. “Is there a reward for my capture?”

Lexa’s brow furrowed. “No. I told you so the other day after I warded off the men in the forest.”

“You could have been warding them off to claim the prize money for yourself.”

“I have no need for money,” she said.

I scoffed. Her placid demeanor, not to mention her claim, infuriated me. “Some other reward then?”

Rather than grow angry at my skepticism and constant questioning of her motives, she stepped forward. She kept her hands clasped, not reaching for me, but her eyes conveyed the same gesture.

“There’s no reward for your capture, Clarke. I know nothing of who you were before I found you.”

At the solemnity of her words, I sank into despair. Any reprieve I had found since awakening in the clearing was brief, and always followed with some new threat. My body was aching, my feet were still sore, and my head was pounding from my screaming as we’d flown through the air. I had so little hope for anything different. I would never get back to wherever home was.

I felt something clog in my throat. My eyes stung, welcoming the tears since the harsh drying they’d endured on the carpet.

Lexa seemed startled by my sudden display of emotion.

“Have I upset you?”

I shook my head, avoiding her gaze as I wiped my cheeks. “I feel like I’m going crazy,” I squeaked.

“You’re not crazy, Clarke,” she said. “Everything you’ve heard and seen and felt is real. I _promise_.” The last word was whispered.

I sniffled.“The carpet was real?” 

She nodded.

I felt relief start to creep over me at her assurance I wasn’t crazy. Hearing that my own mind wasn’t to blame for the things that terrified me was soothing. “And the ballroom and the old woman?”

“Yes,” she said. I had never heard her voice so warm and gentle. “Everything you’ve seen and heard and felt is real.”

At the realization that she had been telling the truth about magic, something inside me broke like a dam and I started heaving with sobs. I couldn’t tell if I was more relieved or more afraid that magic was real, but it felt good to know I could trust myself. Doubting every thought I’d had for the last three days had exhausted me more than I realized.

She stepped forward, tentative, and lifted her arms to me.It was alarming to see her move toward me at all, but I leaned forward into her. Even if she was strange and confusing, her arms around me, holding me together in the midst of my shattering was welcome. Aside from Niylah bandaging my feet and Sairah cleaning the wound on my head, no one had touched me with gentleness in days. She held me there, still and steady, until the worst of my crying faded. I warmed and calmed quicker than I’d expected. It almost felt like she’d wrapped a blanket around me. 

The I realized; if she had magic, she was definitely using it on me now. I shrank back against the door.

“ _Don’t_ ,” I muttered.

She stepped back immediately, looking hurt and anxious. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t use magic on me.”

Her face grew more confused. “I’m not.”

I threw her a skeptical look.

“I wouldn’t use magic on you without your permission. Not unless I needed to protect you.”

I shivered with the last of my tears. Perhaps I’d been harsh with her. But I didn’t have energy to apologize. That, and I was stubborn. I still am.

Most of the time she adores me for it.

I wiped my eyes and looked around, trying to find something to change the subject. In my fear and confusion, I hadn’t looked around the room we’d been thrown into. It was much nicer than I would have expected for a room meant to hold anyone captive. There was a bed covered with pillows and hand-sewn quilts, and the walls had tapestries of warrior women. There was a small skirted table beside the bed with a book of poems, and a clear glass bottle and two glasses beside it. In the corner of the room was a small door. I walked to it and was surprised at what I saw. Inside was a tiny bathroom, complete with toilet, sink, a bathtub, and a rack loaded with soft towels. 

"We have our own bathroom,” I said. I sounded less excited than I was. I hadn’t bathed in days, which probably contributed to my sour mood.

I was eager to take off the ugly clothes I'd been wearing for the past few days and wash, but in a gesture of sheepish apology, I let her go first. It would take me long enough to remove all the ridiculous layers of clothing I had on. As she bathed, I eyed the bottle of water on the table. I was parched, throat still dry and sticky from the wind on the flying carpet. I picked up the bottle and examined the etched glass. I wasn't sure I could trust that the bottle was full of water. I uncorked it and sniffed. I smelled nothing.

Figuring I was either going to die of thirst or the effects of yet another poison, I lifted it to my lips, drinking a sip from the mouth of the bottle.

Relieved to discover it was just water, I filled a glass to the brim and swallowed mouthful after mouthful, feeling the folds of my throat saturate and my stomach fill gratefully. The water was sweet and good, and before I knew it, I'd drunk half the bottle. 

While I waited for my turn in the bath, I examined the little book on the beside table. Inside were pictures of women with jewels covering their wrists and necks, baubles dangling from their ears and even noses. They were from all over the world, and the jewels grander than anything I had seen before. I flipped through, enthralled by the richness on the pages, and was surprised when the bathroom door opened, letting out a cloud of steam and a robe-clad Lexa, scrubbed pink and glowing. She’d taken out her braids and washed her hair, which was now combed through and sleek against her head and shoulders.

"The water is hot," she said with a calm smile. 

I frowned. ”How?” Hot water was the last thing I’d expected on a ship.

She shrugged, and I sprang up from the chair and darted into the bathroom.

The steam clung to the walls and made the air thick as I turned on the water. I locked the door and undressed, content to let my skin breathe the steam and warmth around me. 

I unwrapped my bandaged feet, pleased to see Niylah’s salve had soothed much of the redness. My cuts were healing, the scabs already sealed and formed. 

I tested the temperature before stepping into the tub, letting myself float for long minutes before I opened my eyes to see if there was any soap. I saw a vial with the cap off, half its contents used. I poured a few drops in my palm and proceeded to suds my whole head and body with the foam. It was cool and clean and made my skin tingle. 

I languished there for a long time, floating, feeling the gentle movement of the boat as it rocked me in the water. When the water started to cool and my fingers were pink and pruned, I heaved myself out and patted myself dry with a towel. I combed my hair and pressed some sesame oil into my skin before pulling on a robe and stepping out, feeling the cooler air of our chamber.

She was already fast asleep under the quilt with her head on a pillow. She looked content, almost as though she were smiling in her sleep. Her skin was glowing from her shower, face clean and rosy against her pillowcase. 

I was exhausted, but I didn't want to disturb her as she slept so peacefully. I climbed delicately climbed into bed, taking care to keep my robe secure around my waist.

The bed was worn and smelled a bit musty, but it was solid and comfortable. The sheets were rough and the frame creaked as I adjusted my head and legs. I scarcely lay there a moment before I too was fast asleep.

I heard voices, but they were garbled, almost as if their words were being strained through water. The drips and consonants blended together, such that I only recognized a few words. I drifted in and out of touch with the sounds, floating in unconsciousness.

I was dragged from deep sleep by someone forcefully shaking my shoulder. Thinking it was Lexa, I tried to shrug it off. But then I felt an arm draped around my waist, my backside pressed to a warm female body moving with slow sleep breaths and realized she was still asleep.

I froze, wondering if she had intended to cling to me in such a way, or if she had accidentally curled around me while she slept.

But I didn’t have much time to contemplate it. Someone else was shaking me.

I looked up to see a tall woman with wild, windblown hair almost to her waist glaring down at us.

"Time to get up," she said. "Supper’s been served."

Disoriented and put off by the woman's harsh gaze, I sat up, slipping out of Lexa’s hold, and rubbed my eyes. I saw through the tiny round window in the wall that it was still dark outside.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked.

The pirate woman grave an amused grunt. “Since last night, I reckon. Unless you two were just _pretending_ to sleep.”

She gave me a wink and I inched away from Lexa, uncomfortable with the implication. I looked back at how she was draped into the spot where I'd just been sleeping and scowled. 

I looked around for my clothes. I only had my robe on, and that wouldn't do to attend dinner. But I didn't see my clothes, other than my cloak hanging on the back of the door. Lexa’s clothes were folded neatly on the chair. I couldn’t remember if she’d put them there the night before. 

"What did you do with my clothes?" I asked, pointing to the bathroom floor.

"They're being washed," the tall brunette said. "You'll get 'em back. Don't worry."

She walked to the wall opposite the bed and pulled back a tapestry, revealing a small shelf in the wall. She produced a stack of clothing and plopped it down on the table. "These are more suitable for sea life." 

I looked down at the clothes. 

"I'm Tiller Meg," the pirate woman said, extending a rough hand for me to shake. “Striker Jenny's second hand, if you will." 

I gave a polite handshake, surprised when Tiller Meg clapped her other hand over mine and shook it heartily.

"I'll leave you to get dressed. Come on up when you’re ready.”

I gave an uncertain nod and picked up my pile of clothes. Tiller Meg left the room, leaving it unlocked.

I stepped into the bathroom to dress. Upon unfolding the stack of clothes, I saw I'd been given clothing like the pirate women I’d seen when we’d first landed on the main deck. I had a pair of fitted pants, stockings, and a blouse that fell off one of my shoulders. Perhaps most impressively, I'd been given a leather vest with pockets and straps attached to it, and belt that had a slot for a sword sheath. Putting it all on, I felt more comfortable than I had in the heavy dress and petticoats I'd been wearing for days. As I examined myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but think I looked good. I bit down a smile. 

When I opened the door to wake Lexa and go up on deck for supper, I was surprised to see her out of bed, just pulling her shirt on. I caught a glimpse of her stomach before it disappeared under her shirt. I quickly tried to look away.

"Sorry," I mumbled, backstepping into the bathroom before I realized she was fully clothed now. "I didn't mean to-"

Lexa threw me a silencing look. 

"They want us to go upstairs," she said. "It's suppertime."

"Yeah," I said, drawing a hand over my stomach. "I'm hungry." 

She regarded me for a moment. “You look nice,” she said.

I looked down at the pirate regalia I’d been given, smiling. Then I thought of her hand over my waist as she slept and wondered if her compliment was meant to convey more than the words suggested.

As we exited the room and walked down the dim corridor, we heard faint music coming from the deck. As we drew nearer, I made out the clear sound of a fiddle and a drum. As the music grew louder, I realized that there was no drum, but the pounding of dozens of feet as they stomped out a rhythm for dancing. We heard cheers and laughter. Had we not been held captive in our room for a day, I might have been excited. Instead, I hoped nothing sinister would happen as part of their revelry.

Up on deck, everything was lit with dozens of torches as the pirate women sashayed and reeled around the deck, smiling and clapping and stepping in rows, whirling together, stirring up merriment. 

Striker Jenny appeared with a grin that sent a shiver up my spine. "How did you sleep?"

"Like the dead," Lexa said. 

I wished she wouldn't bring up death. We were, after all, on a ship full of pirates.

"Good!" Striker Jenny cheered. "Do you dance?"

Lexa shot Striker Jenny a cool look that mocked the question. The thought of her dancing was humorous to me then too. Her body was better suited for running and climbing and hunting.

"We're a bit hungry," I said.

"You get to eat in my private dining room," Striker Jenny said. "Tessa's really outdone herself tonight. Our galley is top-notch."

She shepherded us to the other side of the the deck and welcomed us to a large, well-lit room with a table full of fruit and meat and cheeses, as well as wines and desserts.

“Please eat to your heart’s content,” Striker Jenny said, pulling out two stately, high-backed chairs. 

When we hesitated, she grabbed a piece of cheese off one of the trays and popped it in her mouth. She chewed, smiling

Lexa and I eyed each other, conveying a similar confusion and distrust. She spoke up.

“Captain,” she said, reverant. “Are we being held captive?”

“ _Captive_?” Jenny said, as though it was humorous. “Goodness, no!” She chuckled. “Where did you get that idea?”

Lexa glanced at me. “We were locked in our quarters.”

“My apologies,” Jenny said, pressing a hand dramatically over her heart. “I shall have a word with my crew. We’re not exactly used to having visitors, you see. I shall instruct them you are to be treated with the utmost respect.”

She picked up a cookie, arching her eyebrows as she bit into it, then strode out of the dining room back to the festivities. 

Lexa glanced at me again, still suspicious, but somewhat appeased.

Figuring we had little choice but to stay and eat, I sat down and started stuffing my face.

The meats were juicy and tender and seasoned to perfection, the fruits crisp and ripe, and the vegetables grilled to just the right consistency and flavor. There were cakes and pies and cookies to feed a village.As we ate, I saw Lexa slyly licking her fingers in satisfaction, eyes raking over each new dish and flavor. I smiled to myself, not nearly as worried as she was about my table manners. I let my hands and chin grow sticky with the delicacies before us.

A girl in a short cotton dress with striped tights and wavy mouse-brown hair came in and poured us wine. Lexa stiffened, and I could tell she was wondering if the wine was poisoned. The girl left and we locked eyes, equally suspicious. After a sniff, Lexa took a tentative sip. Her eyebrows danced up in delight, though she held the cup away from her mouth for a full minute. Even with the raucous music outside, everything seemed tense and still. 

After a long minute, seeing she was very much alive and well, I took a timid sip and discovered it was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. I tried not to drink too quickly, wanting to keep my wits about me. But the food and wine and sweets kept appearing, and before I knew it, I was stuffed and tipsy and more relaxed than I had been in days.

When the girl attending us came back, Lexa turned to her. "The captain knows how to treat her guests. Please send our compliments to the chef."

I nodded in agreement, feeling sleepy and drunk. 

Outside the cabin, the music grew louder and a smile flitted over Lexa's face. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about dancing,” I said with a teasing smile. 

She eyed me, more in annoyance than objection.

"Just one reel," I said, rising and pulling her up. "Then you can go back to the cabin and sulk."

Lexa let me drag her outside on the deck. She still looked stiff as she clapped and stomped with the crew, but the wine had loosened in her. A hint of a smile passed over her lips, and I thought I might have heard her laugh. Still, she made sure to stay on the outskirts of the action. 

I, however, threw myself in. The torches that lit the deck were as lively as the fray. My feet moved to the beat being pounded into the ship by dozens of boot-clad feet, and my hands slapped together in time with the rest of the lady pirates' when I wasn't being spun about and sashayed between rows of whooping women. Dancing made me feel like there was a chance for me to find home again. I could feel happy and safe.

After I had whipped myself into a frenzy and my feet were sore from pounding on the deck and I felt I couldn't dance a minute longer, the music quieted and all the women turned starboard.

There we saw Striker Jenny perched on a box, hands on her hips with a confident smile on her face, wind blowing the red tendrils of her hair gently in the night air.

"Ladies!' Striker Jenny boomed. "The sea has been good to us today, has she not?"

A smattering of agreement sounded around the deck, some crew members lifting steins and flasks in hearty agreement.

"It seems only fitting that I take this moment to thank another woman who has been kind to us. Tiller Meg, will you join me?" she said, smiling as she reached out toward the woman who had given me my new clothes.

It grew quiet as everyone turned to look at Tiller Meg and smiled, some knowingly. Tiller Meg walked up to Striker Jenny, taking her hand and looking up at her with big, happy eyes. Striker Jenny looked down at her in adoration for a moment before saying, "We know not how long our journey may be, my love. But I want you by my side, day in and day out." At that, she got down on her knee on the box, still holding Tiller Meg's hand, and looked up with all the hope in the world. "Megan Codsworth, will you do me the honor of being my bride and co-captain?"

Tiller Meg's face burst into a smile and she leaned forward, cupping Striker Jenny's face. No one moved or spoke for a minute as Tiller Meg whispered something to Striker Jenny. Then she pulled back and looked over her shoulder. "Yes," she said, letting the crew know.

At that, the ship erupted in cheering. Beside me, Lexa had her hands clasped in front of her wistfully as she watched the happy couple.

Soon the music started up again, and the merriment seemed to double. I was happy, but growing tired. I had drunk a lot of wine that night and needed to relieve myself. I was making my way down the dim corridor toward our room when I heard voices muttering in the dark. I slowed, trying not to make a sound as I listened.

“Are you sure it’s her?” a rough female voice asked.

“Positive.”

I crept toward the voices, sliding silently into a room. I obscured myself behind some heavy ropes that were hanging from a column.

“She does look like her. But if she’s not…”

“I’m certain she is. I had my doubts at first, but when I went to wake them for dinner, I looked around a bit first and I found _this_ in her pocket.”

I squinted through the dark, barely able to make out the two women arguing. My heart quickened when one was Tiller Meg. She was holding the strange, tiny amulet I had seen Lexa tuck into her breast pocket when we’d fled Xara’s castle.

The other woman gasped.

“But who is that accompanying her, then? Surely none of her people would—“

A door slammed somewhere behind me in the corridor and the hushed conversation stopped abruptly. Tiller Meg tucked the amulet into her pocket.

“At the end of second watch,” she hissed at her companion. 

I shrank back into the shadows and hoped I wasn’t breathing too loudly as Tiller Meg passed by me on the way back up to the deck, closing the door behind her. The other woman sat down on a barrel, picked up a large leather book, and opened it, scrawling something inside. It looked like some kind of ship’s log.

I sat frozen, wondering what I ought to do. What were the women planning to do? I grew terribly fearful, wishing I could run and tell Lexa what I’d seen. But I was stuck in the room, unless I wanted to call attention to my presence by opening the door. I hoped the woman before me had had a good deal to drink and would leave soon.

But I had no such luck. For several hours, I sat stifling my breathing, willing my heart not to pound. The party above caused enough commotion that any noise I did make was drowned out. But gradually the music dulled and the hooting and stomping faded away, until all I could hear were waves and the creaking of wood against wood as the boat slid through gentle waters.

Finally, the woman closed the book and got up, placing it on a shelf. She stood, shaking herself before brushing past where I was concealed, opening the door and going out into the hallway.

As soon as the woman’s footsteps faded, I sprang up. The light inside the corridor was dim, but I managed to find the room I’d been assigned with Lexa. It was unlocked, and I shuffled inside quickly. I saw Lexa’s form in the bed.

I rushed to her, shaking her awake.

“Lexa!” 

She sat up immediately, and I realized she hadn’t been asleep.

“Where _were_ you?” she demanded, angry and squinting through the darkness. “I was worried.”

“I heard Tiller Meg talking to someone and I think— I think you might be in danger,” I said, swallowing around the bubble of fear pushing up my throat.

She stiffened, adjusting herself as she sat in bed. She was wearing her robe again. 

“What did you hear?”

“I don’t— I don’t know. They just said that they knew who you were and they’re planning something after second watch. They had that thing you keep in your pocket.”

Lexa threw off the blankets, leaping to the ground. She darted to the chair where she’d folded her clothes again, tearing through the pockets. She started muttering in her funny language, and I felt my heart speed up to its cadence. When she didn’t find the amulet, she cursed. 

“We have to go,” she spat.

Then she jumped back toward the bed, wrenching the case off a pillow, stuffing her clothing inside. She bent to put on her boots, lacing them up haphazardly.

I was bewildered by her frantic response.

She stood, taking her empty sword sheath and giving me a look of urgency. 

I sat dumbfounded on the bed. “How are we gonna get off the ship?”

She gave me a meaningful look.

I gaped. “I can’t swim.”

“Who said anything about swimming?” she said, annoyed. “We’ll take a lifeboat.”

“Won’t they notice?”

“Hopefully not until we’re far away.” 

Having been so anxious to tell her about the conversation I’d overheard, I felt myself slowing, more suspicious of her than I had been since we met. Who was this girl? 

“What do they have on you?” I asked, eying her critically.

She seemed to shake. “There’s no time,” she said. “Did you see any food nearby?”

I didn’t answer the question. She walked to the door, then looked back at me expectantly.

“Are you coming?”

Suspicion crept heavier over my body, rooting me to the floor. I shook my head. 

She looked pained, eyes pleading for the split second she allowed herself to stand in the doorway. Then, taking a quick breath, she pulled her knife from her belt. I felt myself surge with anxiety, fearing she was about to take me hostage.

But instead, she took a resigned breath and turned toward the hall, brandishing her knife toward anyone who might get in her way. “Hopefully they’ll spare you.”

With that she tore out of the room.

I stood in the still room, stunned. I couldn’t even hear her footsteps as she crept away from whatever threat awaited her. I looked around, taking in the unmade bed where she’d been only a minute before.

The foreignness of everything around me weighed heavy. The bed, my clothes, the sounds of the ocean. Everything was strange and cold.

Without her, I was adrift in the blankness of my memoryless existence.

I realized I didn’t want to be found on the ship without her. If they suspected I’d helped her escape, they’d likely kill me.

I darted into action, taking everything within sight that might increase our chances of survival. I grabbed my cloak off the door, stripped the bed of its sheets, making a bundle as Lexa had done. I filled the empty bottle in the bathroom and thrust it into my satchel along with the little bottle of soap and the book by the bed. My clothes still hadn’t been returned, but I wouldn’t miss them. I darted out of the room, hoping my boots weren’t too loud. I made my way toward the deck, hoping I’d see which direction Lexa had gone. 

The deck above was deserted and still. The sky above was bright with moon and starlight. Had I not been frantic to find my companion, I might have allowed it to take my breath away, just as she takes my breath away every day.

I tiptoed around the deck, peering over the edge of the ship, hoping to spot her before she pushed off. As I made my way around, I spotted the room we’d dined in, lamps extinguished now. I squinted through the window, spotting plates of food still set out. I held my breath and cautiously tried the door; it opened. I shoved a block of cheese, a loaf of bread, and several apples into my satchel. If we were going to survive the sea, we’d need sustenance. 

Outside again, I hurried along the perimeter of the boat until I spotted her. She had almost lowered the lifeboat into the water when I leaned over.

"Wait!" I said in my loudest whisper.

When she saw me, she looked relieved.

I threw one leg over the side of the ship, causing Lexa to hiss, “No!" 

I dangled from the side of the ship, heart pounding, boots knocking, hoping I hadn't woken any of the pirates.

She hoisted the lifeboat back up, scraping against the side of the ship, until she was high enough to for me to climb in without danger of falling into the water. 

She lowered us back down, and once we were rocking in the eddies that lapped against the side of the ship, she unhooked the pulleys from the ends of the boat, gripped the oars, and began rowing us away. 

I settled down onto the plank that was my seat and put my belongings in the bottom of the boat. It was cold, and I drew my cloak around my shoulders

She nodded to the overstuffed satchel I’d set in the bottom of the boat and the knotted-up bedsheet, raising an eyebrow.

“Water. And food.”

She gave an approving nod, concentrating on rowing, careful not to make too much noise.

When we were a ways from the ship, she finally looked at me. Her expression was grave yet gracious. She said nothing. 

I was surprised at her silence. I had risked so much in coming with her, but she had yet to tell me why we had to flee the ship to begin with.

“Care to explain?” I said.

“Not really,” she said, sounding sad and angry at the same time.

“I literally jumped off a ship for you and you won’t tell me what they’ve got on you?” 

“Nobody demanded you come with me.”

I crossed my arms, anger flaring. 

“Like I had a choice,” I spat. “They’d probably kill me once they saw you were missing.”

“Probably.”

She said nothing more, pretending to concentrate on rowing, the rolling of the oars steady and quiet. I resisted the calming influence of the sound of the water flowing over the oars, but she seemed to settle into the rocking and lapping of the waves as we slipped away from the ship into moon-lit waters. I felt my anger start to dull despite my efforts.

The ocean was peaceful and calm that night. In the forest, night had been eerie and pitch-black, every sound a possible menace. But here, on the open water, we could see for miles. Nothing could sneak up on us. The moon lit everything up and I could see the irises of Lexa's eyes with absolute clarity. No detail was lost in the silver-hued expanse of the sea.

I’ve seen those eyes in so many lights now, so many shades of joy and sadness. They are brown and green and gold, dancing and weeping and searching. They track places and people and words. But most of all they hold adoration and hope.

Perhaps if I’d looked closer that night, I would have seen that.

We floated for a while, Lexa keeping her head down stubbornly, me drawing my cloak around me to block out the chill. It was peaceful, but also held an air of anticipation. How long would the sea stay calm? What would daybreak bring? Would the crew of the _Good Contessa’s Promise_ be angry when they realized their guests had stolen from the ship in the cover of night? I tried not to think about it, but the worries came anyway. With nothing but the boat and water around me, I felt exposed, as though Lexa might see through me even if I said nothing.

As we drifted farther and farther from the pirates’ ship, I felt as though we began to shrink. Our little boat was so inconsequential against the vastness of the sea. My dulled anger began to morph into fear. I had so many fears; some seemed to haunt from the depths of my mind, where I hoped my memories still lay sleeping. The bottomless depths below the tiny rowboat taunted me, the chill of the air seemed to seep through my clothes. Even the moon shone eerily.

I slipped down into the bottom of the boat with my legs outstretched, wanting to feel grounded in something. 

She glanced at me for the first time in minutes, then looked back out over the water with a faint, sad smile on her face. "I'm glad you came with me."

While I would have liked to scoff or brush Lexa's comment off, I saw how genuinely Lexa meant what she said. 

And because I felt like I ought to make up for almost staying behind, I said, "Me too." It was quiet for a moment and I added. "I didn’t really want to stay behind."

Finally the sadness disappeared from her face. "I know," she said solemnly. "I wasn't worried."

She stopped rowing and gazed up. We’d escaped the ship, but as far as I knew we had no plan. I looked up at the stars too, wondering if they would provide her with guidance. If I had ever known how to map land by stars, that information had been wiped from my mind with everything else.

I was at the mercy of the elements: the water, the wind, and her. 

Her body seized with a shiver. Her flimsy nightgown provided little protection against the night air off the chilly water. Her cape was thin and she had no cloak. Even though I was confused by her unwillingness to explain who she was or why we’d had to leave, I knew she wasn’t a bad person. She had protected me and taken me to a healer and offered me hope in a land that seemed to have little. The very least I could do in return was help keep her warm. Though it was an oddly intimate offer, I opened one side of my cloak and gestured with my head for her to sit with me and warm herself.

She looked at me with wary gratitude, drawing the oars in before she sank down into the boat, burrowing into my side. I was surprised with how eagerly she accepted my offer, how her body softened as I closed the cloak around us. I instantly felt warmer. 

Though I wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, I knew she would have been fine escaping without me. But the thought of her in the middle of the ocean alone was too sad to bear.

We sat like that, pressed against each other as the boat rocked, gently rolling over the waves away from the great ship with the purple sails, which was now a mere dot on the horizon. If my depth perception hadn’t been as good, I might have mistaken it for a bird afloat a mile away. No one had come after us, and no one on the ship seemed to be aware we were missing yet. I closed my eyes and wished as hard as I could that wherever we landed next would be kinder than any of the places we’d journeyed so far. 

We sank lower into the boat, lulled by the gentle lapping sound of the waves. The rocking was soothing. With her warmth against my side, I had almost drifted off when something curved up from the water and rolled through a wave, making a small splash before disappearing. Had droplets of water not landed on me, I wouldn't have noticed it.

She tensed against me

"What was that?" I whispered. 

We sat still, waiting for another noise before she whispered back, "I don't know."

It was quiet for another moment before we heard the noise again on the other side of the boat.

There was something circling our boat.

Even with her by my side, the chance of our survival suddenly seemed miniscule. 

I whipped my head around to see how far we’d drifted from the ship, but I couldn't see the _Good Contessa's Promise_ anywhere. The vessel had vanished, as though it had never existed. The only proof we had ever boarded was the lifeboat we were in now. 

We were in strange waters with little provisions. Other than two small knives, we had no means of defending ourselves. 

The slippery sound happened again, closer to the boat, and the boat lifted up a few inches before being dropped back into the water with a splash. I gasped and grabbed her arm, panicked.

She rose to her knees and reached for the pillowcase she’d stuffed hastily before leaving the ship. Discomforted further by sudden chill as the cloak opened, I could scarcely breathe.

She took the Liquid Light out of the pillowcase. She held it up to the moonlight for a moment before she removed the tiny cork and held it over the edge of the boat. She let a single drop spill out into the water.

The surface of the water began to glow with a silver-blue light that was ten times brighter than the reflection of the moon. It spread out quickly, until I couldn't see any part of the water that wasn't illuminated. The glow seeped down into the water, illuminating every bit of seaweed, every creature that floated and scurried in the deep.

We could see the entire ocean as though lit by an underwater moon. Fear gripped me as I saw just how inconsequential we were in the vastness around us.

"Clarke!" she gasped.

She reached back for my hand, drawing me up to peer over the edge of the boat. I sat up cautiously. As I looked down into the water next to the boat, I saw that we were surrounded by hundreds of koi fish, their silver and orange scales flashing in the illuminated water, swirling and dancing around the boat. And though such an odd cluster of creatures would have normally made me quite unsettled, as I looked at their dance, I calmed. These fish meant no harm. If anything, they were protecting the little lifeboat and us, its passengers.

She grasped the edge of my cloak, pulling it around her shoulders once more, drawing me closer to her side. We watched the fish swimming below, in awe of the mysterious seas we were sailing.

As though choreographed, the fish began to swim in a great figure eight under the boat, stirring up the water in a crescendo. The waters began to move, until we felt the boat being pushed. Looking to the rear of the boat, we saw that a few hundred koi had pressed their noses to the butt of the boat and were pushing it forward. 

She took my hand.

The gesture was so decisive and sudden, I was startled. We’d traveled together for days now, sleeping beside each other each night, yet the clasp of her hand, fingers intertwined, felt more intimate than sharing a bed.

“ _Thank_ you,” she whispered. 

I looked at her and saw she was smiling, though not at the fish. She was smiling at me, perhaps the widest smile I’d ever seen on her face. Lit from below, she glowed silver blue and tranquil. 

“For what?”

“For seeing the good in me.”

It seemed an odd thing to say, as though she thought my regard for her had somehow attracted the fish. I knew that was impossible

But stranger things had happened to me since meeting her. Perhaps my faith in her _had_ attracted the fish. That made as much sense as the flying carpet that landed us on a female-crewed pirate ship, or the twelve girls with their bloody ballroom and possessed princes, or the old woman appearing in the mist.

“You’re welcome,” I said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Her  face  shifted to a sheepish, almost shy  smile , which she tucked toward her chest before letting go of my hand to rest her hands on the edge of our boat. 

We looked down into the water, watching the wriggling bodies of the koi as they nudged our boat along. They seemed simultaneously graceful and furious. After a few moments, I looked up and saw she was still smiling.

The boat picked up speed, until it felt as though we were racing over the water, skipping off waves as the boat was propelled toward the horizon. My heart raced, both with the thrill of the ride and the uncertainty of where we were going. I felt the wind blowing through my hair, and thought perhaps the pirate women hadn't been so odd to love the sea as much as they did. There was a certain freedom here that I didn't think I'd ever felt before. 

We settled back into the bottom of the boat. I pulled the sheets and blankets I’d taken over us to shield ourselves from the salty wind as we were carried forward to meet new adventures. 

Once again, she took my hand.

I felt my eyes grow heavy as her head nestled on my shoulder. Minutes passed, and I felt her chest lifting softly as she dreamed. I drew the quilt over us securely and closed my eyes, saying a silent prayer that the fish would protect us until we found land.

I didn’t see anything frightful that night. I saw only the shimmering silver of the water, felt nothing but the water swelling beneath me and the warmth of her hand in mine.

I awoke to the sound of waves. It wasn't like the sound of the water lapping at the side of the lifeboat; this was the sound of waves falling on a shore. I opened my eyes to see palm trees stretching into the sky, coconuts dangling from their branches. Our boat was nestled in a small cove surrounded by rocks and tide pools and a protective cliff. 

We were on land.


End file.
